


The Bookkeeper

by trainwreque



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-30 04:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10153442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainwreque/pseuds/trainwreque
Summary: CIA agent Bella Swan lives a meticulous, by-the-book life. Her world is turned upside down after she's given a high profile case. Does she tell the truth, or does she continue to lie to the man she's fallen in love with in order to bring down one of the worlds biggest crime bosses? AH. Rated M.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Hello, all! I've been posting my new fanfic on different sites and have decided to post on the lovely AO3. Will be posting the prologue and first four chapters here soon :)**

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns twilight.**

**PROLOGUE**

The sun's rays hit the open window next to the bed and filter in to the room, waking me out of the best sleep I've had in ages. I crack open one eye and glance at the clock on the bedside table. I can't remember the last time I slept in until 9:00am, but I'm not surprised.

He's changed a lot about me.

I feel the bed shift slightly and suddenly an arm wraps around me and pulls me back flush against a warm and toned body. He starts a trail of kisses from behind my ear, down my neck, ending at my shoulder.

I turn my head and finish opening my eyes to gaze into his emerald ones.

"Good morning, beautiful."

"Good morning," I grunt, my coarse voice a stark comparison to his angelic one.

I feel him grow against my backside as his smile only deepens.

"Oh, well, good morning!" I say again, fully awake now, while giggling like a little school girl. Another thing that he's changed… I never giggle.

He smirks and then disappears under the covers.

I prop myself up on my elbows and look down confused. Suddenly I'm given the reason to his disappearance when I feel his hot tongue connect with my apex. I gasp and my head rolls back while I let him lavish me with his mouth.

"Oh God…." I whimper as my fingers find solace in his smooth hair and tug.

I feel two of his fingers slide into me, they pump fast while his tongue works my clit over slowly. The two different motions work in perfect harmony to bring me closer to my climax.

He moans against me, the vibrations along with the unexpected curving of his fingers send me over the edge and I chant his name over and over loudly.

The wet kisses I feel trailing up my body help me come back down. I open my eyes and for the second time today, I'm met with the most beautiful colored eyes.

His eyes hold a tenderness behind them that I didn't see the night before. We don't talk, we don't need to. Our bodies convey everything that needs to be said between the soft caresses and the slow kisses.

He slips inside me and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. He begins moving slowly, pushing himself entirely inside me then slowly pulling out, reveling in the joining of our bodies. He holds himself up with one arm above my head and uses the other to explore my body. When the tension begins to build, he starts to move faster, harder. Reaching over, he brings my leg up over his hip and starts to pump into me with much more force. I grab onto his shoulders for support and dig my fingers in his skin.

"Oh fuck, you're so beautiful, you know that?" He groans over me, his eyes roaming all over my body as if trying to commit it to memory.

I silently reach a hand behind his neck and bring him down towards me, kissing him hard. It's a little sloppy due to the rapid motion of our hips, but that doesn't deter me from showing how I feel about him.

His fingers find my center again, the pressure in my stomach building much faster than before which makes me cry out. He rests his head on my shoulder, his kisses on my neck are rushed and inconsistent as he meets me thrust for thrust.

"Come for me, beautiful."

Just like that I come undone. I feel my walls spasming around him as he finds his own release.

He cries out the name of another woman, and reality smacks me so hard in the face that tears spring to my eyes immediately.

He rides out his climax and pulls out of me slowly. I wince at the feeling of being disconnected and blink rapidly, trying to dispel the tears quickly before he notices. Of course, he looks up just as one big fat traitor tear rolls down the side of my face. He smiles tenderly at me and kisses it away, whispering words of affection I don't hear over the ringing in my ears.

I start thinking back, trying to pin point when my life went to shit and how I ended up here, in this fucked up situation.

"Marie?"

I'm brought out of my trance and focus back on the green orbs that are looking down at me with concern. I blink once before I realize he's calling my name. Well, what he believes to be my name.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his hands roam down my body, accessing its state and making sure he hasn't hurt me.

"Yeah, yes. Sorry, I just…" I can't think of anything to say to him. That I what? Got choked up because the man I'm completely and irrevocably in love with doesn't know my real name? That I continue to lie to him when he has done nothing but open up to me?

"I know…"

My eyes snap back to his, he smiles at me, trying to silently convey that he understands what I'm feeling, that he's feels the same. _If only he knew the truth, he wouldn't be looking at me like that._

More tears spring to my eyes at the fact that he believes I was crying because I was overcome with emotion, and not because of the guilt and shame.

I push everything I'm feeling back down and lock it up. I can't think like that, not after all the work I have left to do.

I just pray to whatever God is listening that he can forgive me when this is all over.


	2. The Yogurt Debacle

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.**

**THE YOGURT DEBACLE**

I turn over on my back and lay awake in bed, listening to the quiet rustling of trees and light rain shower outside of my window. My morning routine starts before I even get out of bed. I tick off everything I need to get done as I try and find patterns in the textured paint. The list is short since it's the Friday after a completed assignment.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

I reach out and tap my phone screen to turn off my alarm, signaling it's 5:00am.

Stretching out, I revel in the fact that I didn't fall asleep reading a case file and that I've woken up in my own bed. There are no signs of work in my room right now. No papers scattered all over my grey bed sheets, no half eaten dinner on the bedside table, and my eyelids aren't stuck together from yesterday's mascara that I forgot to remove before bed. That rarely happens, but when it does it results in nothing but a very happy Isabella.

I hear the sheets ruffle a little bit but don't feel any movement. I'm assaulted by a small head of midnight black fur. Nox, executing her own morning routine, lays on my chest and purrs softly.

"Hey Noxy…" I scratch softly behind her neck, her favorite spot, and she purrs harder in appreciation.

"I'll give you all the loving you want this weekend, but now I have to get up for work."

I sit up and shuffle towards the bathroom and look back as I reach the doorway. Nox's amber colored eyes hold my brown ones with steely resolve as she paws my reading glasses and knocks them off the nightstand onto ground. She then proceeds to saunter out of the room, proud of her achievements in letting me know how unacceptable my behavior has been.

"Little slut…" I mutter under my breath. Careful for her not to hear, or she might tear up my pillows again.

I hop in the shower and take several long minutes to appreciate the hot running water. It's a sweet heaven compared to the months of cold showers I've only recently come back from. I hope my next assignment is in a more developed country. My back could only take so many months of hard cots in youth hostels that have no A/C. I guess I need to put in a few more years before I get put in nicer hotels.

I work for the Central Intelligence Agency. I spent the better part of three years as a terrorism analyst before reluctantly transitioning to a field agent two years ago. The decision to transfer wasn't one I took lightly, but when you have an over achieving dad like I do, you get pushed out of your comfort zone more often than not. The transition to field agent was pushed by my father, who hassled me for years saying I deserved more than a desk job. I became a field agent somewhat grudgingly, but I found that I actually like this work much better.

Law enforcement runs in the family. My father is the Deputy Director of Intelligence Services for the CIA at the Home Office in Langley and my mother is an Assistant District Attorney. Being who they are, it's no surprise that all three of their children followed in their footsteps. I joined the CIA directly after college. My older brother who has to outdo everyone, was recruited as a tech analyst before he even graduated. My twin brother chose to join the army after high school and worked Special Forces for six years before getting out and joining me as a fellow field agent.

I hop out of the shower, wrapped in a towel and make my way into my walk-in closet, trying to decide which pair of my twenty black slacks I was going to wear that day. I never understood the need to have so many of the same colored pants. But when you have a sister-in-law like mine, you learn to shut up and swipe your credit card when asked for payment. I grab the first pair my hands come into contact with and match them with a light blue button down and a black blazer. I settle for a pair of black close toed pumps that I bought myself for my last birthday.

I normally don't dress so professionally, but my father texted me on my way home last night that the Deputy Director was going to be at the after action review.

I lay everything out on my bed before heading back to the bathroom to put on some make up and attempt to tame my hair. After trying to brush it out for ten minutes, I admit defeat and go for a messy low bun.

Once changed, I walk out into the living room to admire my view of Central Park from my floor-to-ceiling windows. I missed my apartment. My sister-in-law and best friend, Alice, took it upon herself to renovate and decorate the place before I even moved in. It has light hard wood floors all throughout except in the kitchen, which sports stark white tiles that contrast perfectly against the black cabinets and marble counter tops. She made sure to furnish the kitchen with state of the art, stainless steel or black appliances, even against my insistence that I didn't need them. The whole apartment has a very light and neutral color scheme, filled with light browns and blues with white accents. I really loved how Alice had done up the place for me, but the view was what won me over. The tall buildings cluttered amongst large trees is something I never tired looking at. It was the perfect mix of city and rural.

I'm interrupted from my thoughts when I hear the coffee machine's beep, indicating it's ready. What I'm surprised I didn't hear up until now is the loud smacking that's coming from the kitchen. I turn my head slowly and see my beast of a twin brother holding the orange juice carton in one hand while using the other hand to shove an entire bagel in his mouth. I've always believed that Emmett's sole desire in life is to figure out how to eat every morsel of food in the least amount of bites possible.

"Mo'ing Thith" he says, as he attempts to smile through the bagel, resulting in several large crumbs falling out of his mouth and cascading onto the floor.

I don't know if it's because we're twins and I know him so well or because I've learned how to speak idiot fluently, but I know he's saying Morning Sis.

"Morning Em… You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep. Too excited for the new assignment." He slides a coffee cup down the counter towards me and I catch it just before it slides off completely.

"We don't know we'll get a new assignment so fast. The DD is only coming in to oversee the after action review."

There are a total of five Deputy Directors, one of which is my father. This Deputy Director, however, is the DD for the CIA in it's entirety, not just a specific department like Charlie is for the Department of Intelligence. Bottom line, he was a fucking big deal.

"When have you _ever_ seen the DD 'oversee' any after action review? I bet you he's just sitting in to hear how our team did and see if we're ready for the next big thing." Emmett challenges.

I roll my eyes at Emmett's optimism, "Em, anywhere with hot running water and a nice bed is the next big thing compared to our last assignment. I really couldn't care less what this next assignment is."

"Why did you join the CIA if you're not going to enjoy it?" he gripes, stuffing another bagel into his mouth.

"It's six in the morning. There is nothing enjoyable about this time of day or any job that requires you to be up at this time." I open the fridge and reach in, grabbing the tub of Greek yogurt and the container of blueberries.

"Early worm gets the dirt, or whatever."

Out of habit, I open my mouth to correct him, but I stop myself as I look back to see him smirking. He loves to say or do things wrong on purpose to get a rise out of me. Another goal in life of Emmett's is to make me look like the biggest smart ass in the room, something I only caught onto after Jasper, my older brother, pointed it out in college.

While Em is chuckling at my inability to let things go uncorrected, I see Nox out of the corner of my eye jump on the counter. She walks over to Emmett's breakfast and pushes the last bagel onto the floor.

"Damn it, cat!" Emmett exclaims. Annoyed, he picks up the bagel and eyeballs it.

I can see the war going on in his head, deciding whether to eat it or throw it away. I roll my eyes as I start making my easy breakfast. My brother has been through things I can't even imagine, but it's the five second rule that completely undermines him.

"Why does your cat have to be such a bitch?" He whines as he turns to Nox and shakes the bagel at her, "Why can't you be normal, like your brother?"

_That's something I'll never hear_ , I think to myself.

Nox, unfazed by this, licks the cream cheese off her paw before slinking away, bored.

Chuckling to myself, I finish spooning yogurt and blueberries into my Pyrex container and let Em know we need to leave now or we're going to be late.

"Now? But I need to make another bagel before we go…" He pouts, looking like a kid who just got pulled out of the candy store before he could even have a sample.

I'm already opening the front door, purse and jacket in hand as I call back, "Now Em! Dad will have our heads if we're so much as one minute late to this."

As much as my brother is a constant annoyance to me, I enjoy living with him. The fact that he was the better cook and always drives are just a few perks, but it is really more that I missed him during his time in the military.

Em grumbled the whole way there until I handed over the unfinished half of my breakfast.

"You kinda owe me anyway, Nox being yours and all…" he explains before tipping back the container and swallowing the rest of the yogurt in one gulp. A tiny bit of yogurt drips down his chin and falls onto his jacket in the process.

"Cute," I point out the new stain and pass him a napkin before turning my head to look out the window and admire Washington, DC. Part of me hopes I'll be able to stay close to home on this next assignment. I enjoy the travel, but this last job made Em and I more homesick than usual.

We arrive at Langley shortly after the yogurt debacle. The spring in Emmett's step is back in full force as we make our way up to the conference room.

"I don't know… I just got this feeling we're gonna be given a super important assignment today. Considering we've kicked every other case we've had in the ass and proven ourselves. Not to mention we're being called in to work at the Home Office."

He does have a point with that last comment. When we're stationed at home we work from a fake business office down town, our usual cover. To everyone else in the world, Emmett and I have a small office together in which we're both professional notaries. The cover works for us. We don't get a lot of people who walk into our office and when we do, we can still do our fake job to keep up appearances.

I look over at him and can't help but smile at how out of place he looks in a suit. Emmett stands at 6'4", his pants are just a tiny bit too short for his long legs. His biceps are probably as big as my thighs and I imagine if he flexed them just a smidge he would bust out of his jacket. Only those that know him well can tell he's uncomfortable in a suit. He avoids them at all costs, wearing them only when mandatory, and half the time he'll pretend he forgot.

"Aren't they all… _'super important'_ assignments?" I ask, attempting to mimic his voice while using exaggerated air quotes.

"No, you ass. I mean like a big one… Wait, not a big ass." He shakes his head and regains focus on what he was saying, "Something more direct, you know?"

By direct I know he means an assignment that deals directly with bigger terrorist cells or organized crime bosses. But the chances of that are slim to none. Those kinds of cases are only given to analysts and agents who've been in the agency for quite some time or specialize in those kind of covert operations. Low on the totem pole, Em and I have only been given cases that deal with popular henchmen, or those a few ranks below from their leaders; but never the head honchos.

Five years may seem like a long time, but in reality it's not when dealing with Law Enforcement. It's all about hierarchy and chain of command. Where I have served five years, there are a handful of others that have been in for ten. In the grand scheme of things, two years is chump change, which is how long Emmett has been working for the CIA. The only reason he's partnered with me is because of our father's high standing.

When we arrive at the conference room, Emmett makes himself a cup of watered down, stale coffee while I go over and sit in one of the chairs that line the wall surrounding the long oval shaped table.

We're not important enough to sit at the table.

Emmett eyes my father's seat with longing as he sits next to me.

"Easy there, tiger. There's about a twenty-year wait for that chair." I murmur.

He bumps my shoulder with his and continues to torture himself with his secret admiration of the seat whilst taking sips of the piss poor excuse for coffee this place offers.

You'd think an organization that has brought down the world's most dangerous criminals and stopped a vast number of attacks on its country would be able to make a decent cup of joe.

I shake my head at him and open my notes up, preparing for the after action review.

I wish they wouldn't call it an AAR. It's basically a thirty-minute meeting where all the big shots come in and jerk each other off to the successes of their departments, then sign off on everything and officially close the case.

Em and I know damn well that the only reason we're having this meeting is because of all the blood, sweat, and time we have put into this job. But alas, we're not important enough to take the credit for any of our successes. I think that's the only thing that Emmett dislikes about this job.

It's the total opposite for me. I love being able to do my work under the radar. It does suck sometimes, this time especially. We've spent the past year living in a small village in Russia, trying to gain intel on the human trafficking market in that area. The village was slowly becoming Russia's main source for funneling slaves into it's major cities. We went through hell, but it was the biggest case we had ever been given so we were more than happy to take it on.

"Hey"

I look up from my notes to see my older brother sit down next to me. Although you could never tell, Jasper was in fact our brother. His long blonde hair and baby blue eyes resemble his biological father, while Emmett and I have our father's chocolate brown eyes and chestnut hair.

Pushing his glasses back up his nose, Jasper asks, "When did you guys get in?"

"When did you get a man bun?" Emmett counters, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

We haven't seen Jazz in a year due to being out of the country for so long on our last assignment. I can only guess this is why Emmett is so confused by the new choice of hair style our older brother has decided on.

"Why do you drink that stuff?" Jasper asks as Emmett blows into his Styrofoam coffee cup.

I look over at the nasty mud colored water Emmett is holding in his hands and can't help but agree with Jazz. That's not real coffee. I quickly cut them off before they continue to pursue the endless war of counter questions they always manage to shoot at each other.

"Yesterday morning. But we spent most of the day filling out paperwork. Then we went to Mario's for some pizza but we haven't seen mom or dad yet. I missed you," I beam at him.

"Me too." He quickly gives me a side hug. I reciprocate the quick side hug, knowing I'll give my big brother a proper reunion hug later on at dinner tonight.

Our reunion is cut short when everyone beings to file into the conference room, including my father who looks over at the three of us, giving a warm smile and a barely perceptible nod. We all nod back at him as he takes his seat at the table.

The Deputy Director walks in and that begins the AAR. My only job is to act like I'm listening and when the head of my department stretches out her hand, I'm to place my notes in that hand and sit back down quietly, like a good little agent.

Kate, my boss, is a huge hard ass but I've always respected her more than other team leaders. She knows when to give credit where credit is due. When I first started, we seemed to butt heads daily, but over the past few years we've warmed up to each other and work quite well together. She's still stand offish towards Emmett, which he doesn't find the least bit discouraging in his efforts to get on her good side.

The AAR is over before I know it and I look up to find my father walking towards to us.

"You three, upstairs." Is all he says before he briskly walks out.

"Awww, I love it when Dad gets all sentimental with us. Just like old times… Maybe mom will be up there to join in on the lecture." Em jokes.

We all make our way up to the top floor and sit outside the conference room. This floor is lot nicer and it's conference rooms and offices have glass walls, allowing you to see into them clearly. If you're decent at reading lips, you can get a good idea of what's being talked about. I'm pretty gifted at it, but I resist the temptation because I don't want my father thinking I'm eavesdropping on matters that don't concern me. I refocus my attention on Dumb and Dumber, who are whispering theories back to each other on the subject of this meeting.

They grow more and more excited as both the Director and Deputy Director walk in and have a seat with my dad and several other department heads.

After about an hour, Emmett and I are called in first.

It's not unusual. Jasper, being a technical analyst, is always brought in later when the computer science aspect of the assignment is needed to be organized. He's been in the CIA for ten years now, and he's already lead analyst in his team, giving him more flexibility than Em and I. Jazz is married and is trying to start a family of his own, so he chooses to work only out of Home Office. When given opportunity, he opts to be put on the same assignments that we have as long as he's able to work from home.

Em and I make our way to our usual seats near the wall when my father clears his throat. We both turn towards him like deer in head lights as he gestures to the two chairs next to him.

Emmett and I give each other a look that says holy shit, before we take our seats next to dad.

Kate starts to speak, "I know of your capability due to working with you both so closely these past few years, so I know you'll be up for the task."

That was probably the only nice thing to have ever come out of and will come out of Kate's mouth in the work place. I give Emmett another holy shit look but he's too busy looking around at everyone else who's sitting at the table to see it. We're only accompanied by eight others including Kate and my father.

"The less people who know about this, the better," she pauses, causing almost everyone to stand up and walk out of the room. I was pretty certain that those positions were as high as you could get, but apparently this was a need-to-know kind of case that didn't care about rank.

Kate, my father, an analyst who's name I don't know, someone else I've never seen before, Emmett and I are the only ones who remain.

I glance outside of the room and look over at Jasper, who is looking in at us with a dumbfounded expression. My hands become clammy as the nerves begin to get to me. My genius older brother is never confused unless it has anything to do with his wife—which I'm positive has nothing to do with any of this. Unless we're investigating a high profile case on complex color swatches or the dangers of glass chandeliers on high ceilings.

Kate takes out a stack of pictures out of an unmarked envelope and pushes them towards Emmett and I. He's still reeling from being able to sit in the seat, showing no sign that anyone's home. Since I'm the only one left with a brain I grab the pictures and look down at them.

The first one I see is of Royce King, a known boss in the Italian mafia. In this picture he's talking to a man with platinum blonde hair. I can't make out any other discernable features because he was turned away from the lens when the picture was taken.

I flip to the next one and see Laurent Solarin, a highly known weapons dealer who does business primarily with the Russian's, but also has had ties with the Mexican and Columbian drug lords. He is also pictured talking to the same man with platinum blonde hair, but again, he's turned away from the camera.

I keep flipping through the pages, each one the same: a highly wanted, big-shot crime boss talking with Mr. Platinum.

I look up at Kate and my father, "Who is this guy?"

My father answers before Kate has a chance, "We don't know his identity, but we have an idea of what he does." He stops there, not explaining further. A silent indicator that I have to look through the pictures again. My father never goes into detail unless he has to.

I look through the pictures again. In every one, Mr. Platinum is carrying a brief case. It's too thin to be carrying a large sum of money or drugs. In only a few of the photos is he seen handing over a thick black book to his companions. In one, he's pointing at something in the black book over dinner with one of the leaders of the Triad, the Chinese mafia. The pictures are not close enough for me to read, so all I can do is guess.

Mr. Platinum has a business of some sort which includes working with all these people—something that is difficult to do. When working with that many chiefs, all highly lethal, things can get sticky. They have to either not know you're working for their enemies, or they do know and just don't care. The amount of trust needed for the latter scenario is almost immeasurable, if not unachievable. These are the type of men that exercise extreme caution in regards to who they do business with. This man must do some of their dirtiest work… Or maybe he's knows their biggest secrets… _Secrets! That's it._

"He's their book keeper. An accountant. The only reason he's allowed to work with that many rivaling mobs is because he knows where all their money is kept, so none of them fuc—I mean mess with him." I reply quickly after a few seconds of deliberation, my heart beating fast.

I enjoy the process of solving problems—the mechanics of putting together tiny details and piecing them together like pieces of a puzzle, forming them into a bigger picture. It's one of the reasons why I love my job so much.

I can see my father's lips twitch slightly underneath his mustache, trying to hold back a smile over my excitement.

I glance over at Emmett, who is still glossy eyed.

He mumbles something under his breath and I barely catch it, but it sounded like, "You can't sit with us."

I kick him underneath the table and he suddenly comes to life and starts to pay attention, brow furrowing as he takes in this new information.

"Yes." Kate responds, "Those pictures you have just seen were taken over the course of the past twenty-five years. These," she produces another stack of photos and slides them over to me, "were taken before the ones you have just seen. Some twenty years' prior, some thirty. They're in order by date taken, the first one being the oldest."

I pick up the pictures, and hold them between Emmett and I now that he's paying attention.

In the first few pictures, it's with criminals who have long been caught or presumed dead. Al Capone, Paul Castellano, Tony Spilitro, almost all the big mobsters. Mr. Platinum isn't in these pictures, the man that has replaced—or in this case, preceded—him has dirty blonde hair. I keep flipping, the pictures starting to show the crime bosses I had just seen, only they look much younger in these pictures. I barely recognize some of them in their youth. On the last five or so pictures, I see the blonde man is now accompanied by Mr. Platinum.

"And these have been taken over the last two years," Kate says and she slides the last stack of pictures towards Emmett and I.

This stack doesn't contain as many pictures as the last one, but I assume this is only because of the shorter time frame.

I pick up the photos and flip through them. Same crime bosses, but they look as they should in present day—older, a little worn down and grayed out after years in the business. Mr. Platinum remains in the photos, but is now accompanied by a man with unruly reddish-brown, almost bronze hair.

I flip through the pictures again, and again, my eyes as wide as saucers.

"Holy shit," I whisper to myself.

I look over to make sure Emmett is on the same page, the look on his face shows he is.

"It's a family business." Emmett and I say in unison

My father can't hold back a small smile as he silently beams at the two of us.

"Precisely." Kate confirms, "like I said, we are unsure of the identities of these men, but we are aware of what they do. All we know is that in the past couple of years, the Book Keeper has begun to groom his apprentice to take over his business. If we're going off the last transition, this process will probably take around five years."

I think it's because she enjoys the feeling of sliding pictures across the table, or maybe it's for dramatics, but Kate proceeds to slide another picture down to Emmett and I.

We both look down at it and see Mr. Platinum, his apprentice, and Aro Volturi. Aro wasn't pictured in any of the pictures from before, but I recognize him from one or two pictures of seen on other occasions. For years he was believed to be a myth. Only in the past decade has his identity been confirmed.

Aro Volturi makes other crime bosses look like kindergarten teachers. He is one of the most notorious and wanted crime bosses in the world. A handful of countries are after this guy. He deals with hard drugs, prostitution, and weapons. He's also been linked to human trafficking, but those reports haven't been confirmed. One time I heard that he bought some nukes off the Cubans, but that was all lunch room bull which I rarely believe.

He's so mysterious and hard to track because he keeps his circle small. He's rumored to have two, maybe three brothers, who deal with everything directly while he delegates everything from behind the curtain. The top ranks are strictly family, which tends to invoke loyalty. The last person we had flip on his business was about a year or two ago. He was a small time coke dealer claiming he had some information on one of the Volturi's henchmen. Poor kid barely had time to say Aro's name before he mysteriously died—I say mysteriously due to the fact that he was being held in solitary confinement that was under the highest surveillance.

He is, for all intents and purposes, a modern day Pablo Escobar, but on a much larger scale than dealing with just drugs.

Kate looks between us to make sure we're comprehending all of this before continuing.

"The Book Keepers have acquired a new client. While they have the books on many others we're interested in, the Volturi's have risen to our number one priority, which makes this a _highly_ sensitive case. We need you both to first figure out the identities of these Book Keepers. Then we need you to infiltrate their business and gain access to these books. Any other information you acquire on the way is just a bonus. Our main priority is the Volturi. This is the first time they've ever trusted anyone outside of their family, and we need to take advantage of that before it's too late. If we acquire these books, we acquire a percentage—if not all of—the Volturi business.

Once you have acquired the identities, we will meet again and assess how you both can go undercover to try and gain the trust of these accountants. Be that as a neighbor, coworker, maid, maybe even a delivery guy. Whatever we see fit to work most efficiently. We just got a hold of this information, so we are playing all of this by ear. _Top priority._ You start on this immediately. Questions?"

I go to shake my head but Emmett interrupts, "Uh, maid?"

Screaming at him to shut up in my head, I glare. He peeks over at me and gets the hint.

"No ma'am." We both say.

With just a look, we're dismissed. The whole way out of the office I can almost hear Emmett's growing excitement. We walk over to meet Jasper, who apparently wasn't needed for this meeting.

"So? Anything good?" he asks, waiting to hear it from us.

I open my mouth but my dad calls Jasper in to the conference from behind me before I get a word out. I'm sure Jazz will be the lead tech analyst on this case.

"Fuck yeah!" Em fists pumps the air, "Do you know what this means? I can't wait to kick some Volturi ass!"

I give him the side eye as he celebrates being brought in on a big case so early in his career. I'm not surprised though, he has a lot more experience on the field in terms of combat which might help in this case, with the Volturi being so dangerous.

Emmett and I walk over to the elevator to make our way down to our desks and he can barely contain himself. He and I have done a lot of undercover jobs, but nothing as high profile as dealing with the Volturi's—his dream assignment.

I get to my temporary desk, which is right in front of Emmett's, and plop down on my seat. I eye the new stacks of file folders and a few file boxes that have found their way to our desks.

I grab the first file on top of the stack and open it up, hoping to find some small detail that will lead me to the identity of Mr. Platinum or his family.


	3. The Steel Door Debacle

**THE STEEL DOOR DEBACLE**

I'm doing research on an alias Mr. Platinum might have gone by for a short period of time— a discovery I made in one of the files from the Book Keeper case—when Emmett reminds me what time it is.

It's almost six in the evening, which normally means nothing to me. I've worked much later than this on more than one occasion. Tonight however, we're all getting together to celebrate Emmett and I's return home with dinner at Jasper's place.

I stick a post-it note where I left off reminding me to research the one small lead I've found in the past seven hours. Now that I've had time to sit at my desk and rifle through documents, I can't help but to feel excited about our new assignment.

I follow Em down to the car as he hums the theme song to _Cops_ and fist pumps the air every few lines. When we reach the lot, I see our black Audi A3 is one of the few cars left in this level of the parking garage. I don't see Charlie or Jasper's car, so they must already be at home waiting for us.

Like my parents, Jazz lives close by, so the drive is relatively short. We pull up to a quaint, two story grey house in a quiet, gated neighborhood. It's partially shrouded by a large oak tree, with a row of bushes lining the front porch and steps. The style is a little old fashioned, but it was built a few years ago. We hop out of the car and head up the steps. Em barges in without so much as a courtesy knock.

"Ma! Alice! We're home!" He yells as he kicks off his shoes by the front door.

As I'm taking off my own shoes I'm assaulted by a mass of golden fur.

"Jesus!" I yelp as I try and regain my balance, "What in fuck's name?"

"Isabella, language!" I hear my mother admonish as she walks from the kitchen towards Em and I. Her footsteps are accompanied by a few others.

I look down at a golden retriever who's overly excited about the two new strangers. It's tail is wagging with so much force, it's entire backside is shaking back and forth.

"Oh, hello there…" I croon with a voice specifically reserved for animals. I can't help it; my baby voice comes out when I see cute little fur-nuggets. I go to pet the hairy mass, but I'm suddenly interrupted.

For the second time today, I'm nearly knocked to the ground, but this time I know who is responsible for my attack.

Alice, my sister-in-law and best friend, lets out an animal like screech. Tightening her grip, her hug effectively forces out any and all air present in my lungs.

"Oh my god, how I've missed you! Don't ever do that to me again. I can't believe you left for an entire year and couldn't even send one measly letter to let me know you were okay. Don't even try to convince me it was a business trip. Year-long business trip for a notary? Good one." She babbles, eyeing me knowingly. "Do you understand what it is like to have your best friend taken away from you? Poor Jasper had to deal with all my girl talk for the past year. He has really honed in on his nail painting and hair braiding skills, though. Could have quite the career." Alice glances at Jasper as she says this, shooting him a flirty wink. He chuckles and shakes his head.

It's been so long that I'm slightly taken aback by her ability to ramble on, seemingly forever, without taking so much as a breath. But it only takes a second to acclimate to the tornado that is Alice.

She's dainty and petite, standing about a head shorter than me, with a strength that rivals Emmett's. She used to have long, beautiful black locks when we were kids, but since high school she has kept her hair relatively short. She sports a sleek bob with soft bangs parted to the side; the pixie cut from a year ago long gone.

"Hello to you, too Alice. No, actually, I don't know what it is like to have my best friend 'taken away' from me. That is a completely foreign concept. Care to share?" I reply, hugging her back with such intensity, my heart may actually burst.

Alice and I have been best friends since her family moved to DC in middle school. It has always been just the two of us. I have a few other friends, but none who's friendships are as precious to me. She always had this school girl crush on Jazz when we were young, but he never paid much attention to her.

Growing up, we would always plan each other's weddings and discuss what our perfect senior prom would be like. In the eighth grade, Alice swore up and down that Jasper was going to be her date for senior prom. At the time, I just gave her a weird look, and shrugged it off by moving on to dress styles and colors for the big day. I should have remembered Alice always gets what she wants. The summer before our senior year started, Alice asked Jasper if he could fly home a few days earlier from college, to be her prom date—as friends, of course—at the end of the school year. She claimed she wanted every detail she imagined when she was younger to match perfectly with reality.

Next thing I know, I'm left standing alone with Mike Newton at prom by the punch bowl, Alice and Jasper nowhere to be seen. Ever since that night they've been together. They married after Alice and I finished college and have been trying to start a family of their own for the last year. No luck yet, but Alice says it will happen when it is supposed to.

Although she is my best friend, I could never tell her that I am, in fact, not a notary. The CIA has strict rules on who we are able to confide in about our occupation. Only spouses are allowed to learn of our employment with the CIA, and even then, that is all we can disclose. When she married Jasper, he told her the truth about what he did for a living. She knows Em and I work with closely Jasper, as well as Charlie, so by default she knows what the rest of us do. So, now when I lie about going on a 'vacation' or 'business trip', she smirks and gives me a furtive look, quickly followed by the slightest glimmer of concern.

Even knowing this, I still have to lie to her, which I hate. It does seem a tad easier now, knowing she understands why I have to.

"Alright, alright, that's enough Alice. Let an old man have a minute with his daughter." Charlie says as he comes up behind Alice, grinning at the both of us.

I launch myself at him and give him a long, hard hug, "Hey Dad." I breathe out, realizing now how much I have missed him and the rest of my family.

"Hey Bells." he pats my back and holds me for a few more seconds before letting go so my mom can have a turn. My father and I have always been close. He is not as affectionate as some, but he has always been there for me, teaching me most of what I know.

I look over at my mom, who could easily pass for thirty on a bad day. Her aqua colored eyes are teary as she wraps her arms around me. Everyone says I'm the spitting image of her, but with my father's eyes and hair. I don't mind though, my mother is the true definition of an American beauty.

"Awww, Ma come on! None of that." Emmett pleads spotting her red nose and teary eyes. He reaches over and scoops her up in one of his bear hugs, lifting her off the ground in the process.

Jasper crosses the foyer to give me one of his warm 'older brother' hugs. Once our greetings conclude, we make our way into the dining room and take our seats.

Alice has pulled out all the stops for tonight's dinner. The table is overflowing with delicious gourmet foods, a specialty of hers. She owns a local catering and event planning company, famous in it's own right here in DC. Almost all official government banquets, dinners, high class parties, and weddings in the area are exclusively organized and catered by herself and her team.

"I really missed your cooking, Alice. You didn't have to do all this for me, though." Emmett assures her while grinning childishly.

"Oh, I didn't mind, Emmie." Alice replies sweetly. She knows he hates that nickname, but he lets it slide partially because she's Alice—and partially because he is distracted by the enormous stack of steaks that are practically taunting him from the middle of the table.

I feel something brush against my legs, and look down to find the golden retriever once again staring up at me.

"When did you guys get a dog?" I ask while scratching behind it's ears.

"Jazz got him for me a month or two after you guys went on your trip to keep me company. His name is Albus." Alice smirks. I beam at her, proud of her selection of name.

"A great name for a great pup." I croon as Albus wags his tail.

We all take our seats and start piling our plates with food, eating before we start catching up.

In record time, my mother asks her favorite question.

"So, Bella? Did you meet anyone _special_ when you were away?"

Emmett snorts next to me, but I silence him with a glare.

"Uh, no mom. We were working pretty much around the clock. I didn't have time to go out and socialize." I reply before shoving more sweet potato mash in my mouth to avoid having to answer another question about my love life, or more specifically my lack thereof.

Don't get me wrong, I am no virgin. I've been in a few relationships, and regretfully had one or two drunken one night stands. After college, my main focus became the CIA, so I never made any time to go out and date. I get asked occasionally, but none of the men peaked my interest enough to say 'yes'. It's been quite a while since anyone but Nox has seen me in my birthday suit.

Emmett plays dumb because…Well, he's Emmett and that's pretty much his only play. He more so enjoys adding fuel to the fire.

"Really? You didn't? I had plenty of—" he stops when he feels the stinging pain of my heel digging into his foot, "Ow, Bells! That really hurts."

I quickly retract my foot and look over at him as he is feinting a pained look. When everyone goes back to their food he grins devilishly at me. Little bastard! I think to myself, filing this away until appropriate revenge can be executed.

"Bella, don't hurt your brother. I'm just worried about you not being settled down yet." My mom pleads.

"Yeah? Well, Emmett is the same age as me and he hasn't _settled down_ yet either," I deflect poorly.

"Anyone who spends ten minutes with Emmett can see why he's still single. That's no surprise at all." Jasper adds, "Speaking of which, what happened with Kate, Em? You owe me a hundred bucks. She hasn't gone on that date with you. Don't think I forgot."

I smile, inwardly thanking Jasper for the subtle subject change. He winks at me before refocusing his attentions to Emmett.

"Oh come on, Jazz!" Em exclaims, "Give me another month. We made that bet a week before Bella and I had to leave. How was I supposed to woo Kate from the other side of the country?"

"The terms were that I give you a month. It's been a year." Jazz sips on his wine victoriously, something that I notice Alice isn't drinking tonight. A rarity, considering Alice is the first to help herself to an expensive, Italian wine.

She catches me eyeing her water, and I shoot her a questioning look. Before I can gauge her reaction, Alice hurriedly stands, announcing she is grabbing dessert.

"What was I supposed to do? She has to see the gun show in person in order to fully appreciate my charm." Emmett continues, all the while flexing his biceps.

"That's how you 'woo' women? Muscles? Really, frat boy? I'm surprised you've made it this far in life." Jasper counters.

They continue arguing semantics in regards to getting into a woman's pants when Alice walks back in, placing a tray of beautifully decorated French macaroons in the center of the table. They are an assortment of light blues and pinks, each with a different design adorning the top. There are baby rattles, pacifiers, baby booties, and little balloons with the word 'baby' written on them.

My mother gasps, interrupting the heated discussion of the female anatomy that Jazz, Em, and apparently now my father are having. She's staring at the macaroons, covering her mouth as she begins to tear up.

My father, unsure of what is happening, finally glances at the plate of cookies. Realization spreading across his face, he slowly looks up, lovingly glancing at his son and daughter-in-law.

"Wow…. Really, Jazz? Wow." Charlie whispers. He is quiet, but he and my mother are beaming, almost as much as Alice and Jasper are.

Emmett stands and picks Alice up, twirling her around and laughing, "I can't believe I'm gonna be an uncle! I can't wait to show the little shit how to pick up ladies, the right way!"

We all laugh and take turns hugging Alice and Jasper, congratulating them whilst wiping away tears of joy.

"I'm so happy for you, Jazz." I whisper teary eyed, "You're gonna be such an amazing dad. I love you, big bro."

"Love you too, Little Bell." He replies, releasing his hold from our embrace. He's content watching silently as his family takes in the news.

Emmett breaks out a bottle of champagne—and a glass apple juice for Alice. We all toast to the 'little shit', as Emmett has newly dubbed him, all agreeing it is going to be a boy.

"You realize, Em, that you can't call him that after he is born, right?" I ask, eyeing him questioningly as I sip my champagne.

"Why not? It's a suitable name." He jokes, knowing how ridiculous he sounds.

"Emmett, language! There won't be any 'shit' business around my grandbaby!" My mother admonishes, reach over to rub Alice's flat tummy.

We all chuckle at the sheer fact that our mother has said the word 'shit'. Emmett raises his eyebrow towards Jasper, a silent reminder of the long standing bet they have in regards to our mother. Since we were teenagers, they have placed bets on how long it will take for Emmett to drive mom crazy enough to the point of cursing. Over the years, the amount of time has depleted to the point of almost nonexistence.

I catch the subtle, sad smile Jasper gives Renee, and the almost imperceptible exchange between him and Em, before he resumes drinking his champagne.

Before Renee met Charlie she had been married to Phil, Jasper's dad. He was a police officer who died in the line of duty. I was never told any of the details, but when I got older I started snooping around public files in the library at school. I found an archived newspaper article about Phil Whitlock, a police officer for Washington DC. A teenager attempted to rob a liquor store.

When the police arrived on the scene, the seemingly routine robbery morphed into a full blown hostage situation. Phil was shot and killed by the teen while he was trying to talk him down into releasing the clerk he held captive. Renee was only a few months pregnant at the time of Phil's death, robbing Jasper of the opportunity to meet his biological father.

Renee met my father during her last trimester. Charlie was smitten and fell completely head over heels for her. He took care of Renee and was there for Jasper's birth. My mother took some time to reciprocate those feelings, but Charlie was patient and knew she was worth the wait.

They married when Jasper was two years old and my father adopted him. He didn't change his last name, wanting to honor Phil in that small way.

After Jasper had turned eighteen, he legally changed his last name to Swan and gave Charlie the document showing as much. Nothing was ever said, but we all knew Jazz wanted to thank Charlie for taking him in as his own son and caring for him and Renee. That was the closest I had ever come to seeing Charlie Swan cry.

I look around at my family and my heart can't help but feel warm and full. We are far from perfect, but I'm so happy I have them in my life. Even Alice fit in perfectly long before she married Jasper. We all sit around the table, laughing and catching up on what Em and I have missed over the last year. A few hours later my mother looks at the time and decides to call it a night.

Em picks her up again, giving her another of his famous bear hugs—he calls them famous, no one else does.

"We'll be over for breakfast tomorrow morning, Ma. I have to take advantage of those chocolate chip pancakes while I'm here." Emmett jests as she pulls on her coat.

"Oh don't worry, I picked up everything I need for those yesterday. I have a full year's supply of ingredients for those pancakes, which I'm sure will be obliterated in a week with you back in town." Renee laughs.

She gives everyone else a quick but loving hug before she leaves.

Charlie promises to be home soon after. They had driven separately since they both came over straight from work.

Alice begins to clean up the table and I snatch an empty plate out of her hand.

"Oh, no, Missy." I warn her, "You cooked, that means I clean. Go on and relax in the living room. I got this."

"Bella, no! At least let me help? We can gossip while doing dishes! I have so much to tell you!"

While I know she truly means that, her body betrays her by forcing a yawn from her tiny frame. I see how tired she looks from a long day at work, hours in the kitchen, and the emotional excitement of the evening.

Jasper comes up from behind her and whispers in her ear. She reluctantly hands over the empty pitcher to him before heading toward the living room.

I laugh at her dragging her feet in mock defiance while releasing another sizable yawn.

"What did you tell Alice that made her back down from cleaning?" I ask.

"I just told her that she needs to start relaxing if we want a healthy pregnancy." Jasper replies, smiling brightly at finally being able to say the word pregnancy.

"Ha! Oh man, thanks for that ammo. I'm going to enjoy using that for the next 9 months... You guys should have more kids after this. Dozens, even. Just keep them coming." I joke as I dodge his attempts to punch my shoulder.

He and I begin clearing the table when Charlie and Em walk in, speaking low in hushed voices.

"I can't believe you guys landed the Volturi case... I had no idea they were going to give you two that specific one. You guys do deserve it, though. Congrats, Bells." Jazz says as he pushes leftover garlic knots into a Pyrex container.

"What do you mean 'can't believe you guys'? You didn't get let in on the assignment?" I ask, confused as to why they would bring him in right after us if not to assign him that case.

"Oh I am," he laughs, "I'm the one who discovered the Book Keeper. Took me about two years to notice. Two weeks ago, I was looking at new surveillance photos of Royce King when I thought I had seen that platinum hair before. I dug deeper, and found another picture of him with one of the leaders of the Triad. A week later, I had all the pictures the agency had acquired over the years on him gathered up and brought it to Kate. But I didn't think she would hand the case off to you and nitwit over here."

At the word nitwit, Emmett joins the conversation.

"I know damn well you aren't calling me nitwit. Took Bella and I less than 5 minutes to recognize Mr. Platinum."

I take a second to go back and think if I ever said the nickname I had given the Book Keeper aloud, but quickly realize I hadn't. _Stupid twin mind thingy_ , I groan inwardly.

"Excuse you. It took me five minutes to recognize Mr. Platinum. You were having a serious mental breakdown and spewing off lines from Mean Girls in the chair next to me." I say matter-of-factly.

"That's because you had all the pictures all lined up in front of you. You did none of the work. It probably would have taken your puny brain decades to comprehend what you were seeing had you been in my position, Em." Jasper retorts.

"I have a very large brain, thank you, accompanied by other very large organs. Yours of which would pale in comparison, for the record." Responds Emmett, turning his nose up in the air, showcasing his arrogance in this particular subject.

"I forgot what it's like to have you three in the same room." Charlie chimes in, popping open a beer before taking a seat at the table.

We all join him at the newly cleaned table. Emmett opens his mouth to talk but Jasper holds his finger up, silencing him. He leans a little toward the living room, straining to listen. There's a quiet snoring coming from inside, confirming Alice is fast asleep. Jazz nods his head for Emmett to continue.

"So what's your part in our new assignment?" Em asks, keeping his voice low.

"Emmett, you don't have to whisper. Alice can sleep through an earthquake." Charlie asserts, completely seriously.

We all chuckle at his statement, remembering our family trip to California a few years ago. That was a prime example in which Alice did actually sleep through an earthquake. We have never let her live that down.

"I'm helping you guys surveil the Book Keeper and his apprentice." Jasper continues, "Once you figure out their identities, I'll set you guys up with new identities and keep an eye on you from afar. Make sure Emmett doesn't fuck anything up."

Em scowls at this and begins to argue, but my dad swiftly cuts him off.

"I need you three to be on your toes with this case. Tread lightly. The CIA has lost a few agents when dealing with the Volturi. I know your main priority is to gain access to their books, but before that, your lives are what matter. If it gets too dangerous for you, or you're made by anyone, I'm pulling you from the mission immediately. Understood?" Charlie's eyes are firm as he eyes the three of us.

"We won't get made, dad. We're the best at what we do. I have to admit, even Jazz is good at what he does. He has our back." Em nods over to Jasper, their argument from a few minutes ago a distant memory.

"Good. Really proud of you guys, great job landing this assignment. That was all you." Charlie claps Jazz in the back, who's sitting closest to him, and smiles.

Charlie gets up, ending our conversation, and bids us all goodbye.

As I'm walking out the door with Emmett, Charlie grasps my elbow.

"Careful out there, Bells." He murmurs.

"I will be, don't worry, Charlie." I assert.

"Huh," he gruffs and narrows his eyes slightly at my calling him Charlie. "I remember when I used to be 'daddy'." Shaking his head, he walks towards his car.

I laugh walking over to my own car. The ride back home is quiet and I fall asleep before we even get there.

I wake up sometime later and realize I'm now in my bed, Nox cuddled into my side. I smile, picturing Emmett carrying me up here instead of waking me. I fall back into a deep sleep as soon as my head hits my pillow.

When I wake the next day it takes me a few seconds to pry my eyelids from each other, the previous day's mascara still on my lashes. I groan as I stretch, a tad stiff from sleeping in my work clothes.

Nox makes her way to my face and head butts me a few times. I look over at the time and see it is 6:27am, her favorite time. Breakfast.

I settle back into bed for a few minutes but the head butting becomes incessant and I am unable to stand it any longer, so I force myself up.

"Alright, alright. Calm your tits, lady. I'm coming." I mutter as she sashays out of the room, beckoning me to follow with the swish of her tail.

I make my way over to the kitchen lazily. I am not allowed to brush my teeth or shower before I feed the Queen of DC, a punishment for my lateness. She doubles back and follows close behind, making sure I don't stray from the path towards food.

I walk out into the living room and stop dead in my tracks. I feel Nox's head bump against my calf, silently telling me to get my ass moving. I, however, am too busy looking at the mess created by the giant oaf sitting on the couch.

Em somehow found the time to go get all of the files we had on the Book Keeper. It looked like he had already been through a box or two. He has a few files open next to him, and others strewn about, successfully covering most of our living room floor. Spotting files that are in neat little stacks, while others are seemingly thrown haphazardly, I wouldn't be surprised if he worked through the night, opting out of sleep entirely.

"Emmett." I interrupt him while he peruses through a mixture of documents and photos.

He looks up from the pages and smiles, looking well rested, like he did indeed have a full night's sleep.

"Morning, Bells. I made a little breakfast to hold us over until we go to mom and dad's. It's in the kitchen," He nods over to the kitchen and goes back to his work.

"It's Saturday," I accuse, "and it's six-thirty in the morning." My eyes narrow as I wait for his response.

"I'm just pumped to get the ball rolling on this. I couldn't sleep, plus I don't want to wait until Tuesday to get started. We have that psych evaluation Monday, which will probably take all day. Figure I get a head start on this since we don't have much else going on this weekend." Em replies before returning his attentions to the papers in front of him.

"Hmm, okay, well—ouch! Jesus, woman!" I jump and look down at my now red calf, harboring a deep scratch from Nox. She looks up at me with disdain, unwilling to wait a minute longer for her daily offering. "Ugh, fine, fine. I'll get your damn food." I gripe as I hurry over to the kitchen.

Once I set her food down, she purrs delightedly and digs in.

"Give me a few minutes and I'll join you, Em." I call over as I walk back into my room, deciding to hop in a shower and put on fresh clothes.

I decide on navy blue jean shorts and black and white striped long sleeve since we're going over to Charlie and Renee's house in a few hours. I leave my wet hair down so it can air dry and my face bare. I make my way back to the kitchen, this time feeling much more refreshed than a few minutes ago.

Emmett's left me a slice of his homemade quiche on the counter, one of my favorites.

I pour myself a cup of coffee before I grab the plate and head over to the living room—which has now been transformed into an office by Emmett.

I join him, choosing to sit on the love seat adjacent to the couch. I spoon the quiche into my mouth as I watch him read file after file, mumbling incoherently to himself. A little white mass of fuzz crawls into my lap.

Subconsciously, I begin to pet Em's cat, Lumos.

"Oh hi, Mister Lumie." I sing, causing him to flip onto his back and present his tummy for scratches.

He is far sweeter than his sister, Nox. The only commonality they share is their eyes, which are the exact same dazzling shade of amber. Without it, you would hardly guess they are from the same litter. Their demeanors are on opposite sides of the spectrum. Lumos is a loving cuddle monster, while Nox is the demanding diva and not much for unwarranted affection. Even so, I wouldn't trade Nox for the world. She may be a raging bitch at times, but she's my raging bitch.

After I get my fill of scratches and cuddles with Lumos, I pick up a file to start reviewing. Knowing that means business, Lumie nestles himself contentedly into my lap.

Emmett and I maintain a comfortable silence while we go through file after file, looking for any leads. I search for my sticky note placed on the possible lead in regards to an alias the Book Keeper had used some time ago.

After about an hour, with no luck from my original lead, I start looking again. Starting anew, finding even the smallest of parallels could be a game changer.

Emmett and I fall into a pattern of sorts after a couple weeks. We work during the week, have dinner at Jasper's every Friday, breakfast at my parent's Saturday mornings, and then resume work through the weekend.

Occasionally, Alice storms into our apartment, demanding I help her shop for the baby and update my closet. She always seems to find a way to throw the latter in there, regardless of the situation.

All of the seemingly promising leads we find end up turning to shit, as if the Book Keepers are only a figment of our imagination. It starts to feel as if we are trying to connect dots that aren't really there.

It's the last Sunday of the following month, and for the umpteenth time, I'm reading over a file that I couldn't know any better if I took it to a nice dinner and ravished it all night long. At this point, I have all but memorized each and every document, knowing everything and yet, ironically, nothing.

I'm staring at a picture of Laurent Solarin that is attached to this particular file. He was detained and subsequently arrested last week after the CIA had accumulated enough evidence to build a case against him. He is currently being held at ADX Florence, a super-max federal prison in Fremont County, Colorado. It is then that my mind is flooded with a single thought. A game changing thought.

"Em, I got it! Holy shit, why didn't I think of this sooner? It's not like he's the only one in prison… We need to interview Laurent! We should start with him being as he's the most recently incarcerated. Or maybe we should start with someone who has been in longer? Actually, I think it's perfect, he hasn't been sentenced yet so—" I exclaim, my mouth struggling to follow the train of thought my brain is rapidly developing.

"—Uh Bella?" Emmett says, cutting me off before I can continue my rambling, "Can you fill me in on the rest of this? These files have me nearly brain dead and are starting to blend together as one in the same."

"I'm pretty sure you were going brain dead long before then, Em. Anyways, Laurent is one of the Book Keeper's clients. All we have to do is go talk to him and persuade him to tell us everything he knows about Mr. Platinum."

"Damn. Why didn't I think of that?" Emmett questions, inwardly reflecting the simplicity of the idea. "Don't answer that." He quickly responds as he points a finger at me and narrows his eyes. Knowing me well, he assumed I would retort with yet another 'brain dead' comeback. In all fairness, he isn't wrong. "Let me call the Home Office and set up our flight to Colorado ASAP." He states, while I chuckle to myself at the plethora of witty comments he deprived me of verbally expressing.

Emmett rises off the couch and heads towards his room, holding his cell up to his ear. I take this opportunity to head to my own room to pack a few things, in hopes that we can get a flight within the next few hours. I look out the window, and to my surprise, I see darkness indicating night is ever present. This isn't the first time I've lost track of time via the drowning of myself in case files. I guess we will have to catch a flight first thing in the morning.

I hear a knock at my door when I am almost finished packing all of my essentials, and look up to see Em standing in the doorway.

Catching the red eye. Your flight leaves at one, mine's leaves at midnight."

"Mine." I correct absentmindedly while folding a grey pencil skirt into my carry-on.

"I know." Em chortles, shaking with silent laughter.

"You're an ass. Wait, why are we taking separate flights?" I was positive red eye flights, especially those to Colorado Springs, weren't over crowded in the least.

"Kate said we'd save time if you went to Laurent and I went to another client of the Book Keeper's in lockup. Maria Monterrey was picked up near the border of Mexico in Texas a few days ago. She's being held at Fort Worth."

Maria Monterrey was a high profile drug queen, originally from Texas, who was operating out of Mexico. She fled the country a few years back after the FBI put a warrant out for her arrest. She's been heading her business from Mexico ever since, or so we thought. She must have gotten cocky and thought it safe enough to make a trip back into the U.S. She was in one of the pictures we were given with Mr. Platinum. Her father, whom she replaced after he was killed by the Columbians, was in a few pictures with the previous book keeper.

"Well, we all know Kate loves efficiency." I mutter as I zip up my duffle bag, preparing to head out the door.

My heels click against the smooth cement floor, echoing ominously off the walls of the empty corridor.

It's silent, save for the mouth breathing correctional officer leading me to a private room where Laurent awaits my arrival. We are taking the service hallway to avoid cameras since no one is supposed to speak to Laurent without his representation present. I do not want his lawyer involved due to the fact that I plan on offering him a deal in exchange for information; a small fallacy in the hopes of obtaining useful and valuable intel. Laurent believes I'm a D.A., meeting with him as a favor. I am technically not allowed to be here, either. U.S. soil is FBI turf, but the CIA always seems to find a way around those rules.

I pat and smooth the hairs on my head, taking special care to ensure my long blonde wig is on correctly. I've only been wearing it for almost an hour, but am already to sweating due to the stifling Colorado heat. I usually avoid wigs if at all possible when going under cover, and opt for the occasional dye job or cut of my hair. Since this situation, however, is a one-day excursion, I chose a quick and easy disguise. I'm hoping this meeting won't take too long, given that my spanx are uncomfortably starting to cut off circulation to my lower half in addition to the ample amount of sweat.

The officer and I come to a stop in front of a thick steel door.

"Well, here we are." He leans on the closed door, giving me what he believes is a sexy smile. In all actuality, he looks more as though he is attempting to hold in a fart.

"Thanks," I pause, glancing at his nametag, "Mr. Crowley." I offer him a polite smile, and turn towards the door, trying to end our conversation before it even begins.

"You can call me Tyler. You can also call me tonight, if you want." He attempts to hand me what looks like a used napkin with his number scrawled lackadaisically across it.

I physically cringe at the cheesy pick up line this mouth breather has attempted to use to win my affection.

"No thank you, Mr. Crowley." I respond, able to keep the condescending tone out of my voice. Barely.

"Come on," he whispers and leans in towards me, the stench of his surely greasy breakfast still lingering on his tongue. "I have full access to super-max, I can take you on a tour." ending his proposition with a wink followed by another one of his gas induced smiles. I am able to literally feel my lady-bits physically retreating back into my body in order to avoid contact with such a specimen of the male gene pool.

"Tempting, very tempting. But I think I'd rather spend the night with one of these convicts than have to listen to your black hole of a mouth suck all the air out of the room for another minute." I say with such finality; I am hardly sure his feeble mind can comprehend the words.

I proceed to open the door abruptly, causing him to stumble and hit his head on the door.

"Oops." I giggle, plastering a fake and innocent smile on my face, "Okay Steve, we're good here. Thanks!"

"It's Tyler." He mumbles, rubbing his head and looking defeated as he closes the door behind me.

I enter and am faced with an empty room devoid of all windows and natural light. In the middle sits a steel table with two accompanying chairs that are bolted securely to the ground. One of the chairs is occupied by none other than Laurent Solarin, who is handcuffed to the table itself. His hands are clasped together, patiently waiting with a small contemplative smile on his face. If I didn't know any better, I would say it was as if he was at your local Starbucks, waiting to meet up with an old friend.

"Good morning, Mr. Solarin. I'm Sandra Michaels, I work for the DA's office. Thank you for meeting with me today on such short notice." I say, attempting to keep my tone as diplomatic as possible.

Laurent flashes his white teeth, the color exaggerated by his accompanying dark complexion. I can see why he's such a successful business man. He's charm radiates and fills the room, eyes warm and inviting.

"Please," his voice dripping with his thick French accent, "call me Laurent. All my friends do."

"Okay, Laurent. Call me Sandy, all of my friends do." I smile, attempting a bit of harmless flirting to get on his good side and gain his trust.

"What can I help with you with today, Miss Sandy? Or shall I say, how can we help each other?" He flashes his teeth again, sultry and mischievously.

"Well, Laurent, I need some information. If you cooperate, I am willing to discuss the taking of a few years off your sentence."

"A few years? I'm sure you are aware a 'few year's is nothing in comparison to my full sentence, yes?" He asks, not bothering to hide his condescending tone.

With the charges they have against him, I'm sure the years racked up far surpass that of his natural life.

"You are over estimating my power, Laurent." I declare.

"No, Miss Sandy." He chuckles and leans forward, "I am preying upon your desperation for this information you seek. I do not get visitors here, as I am sure you well know. You being here in person, as opposed to relaying the message to me via my lawyer—who, I remind you, is not present—leads me to believe this information you wish to acquire is invaluable to you."

We stare at each other for a full minute before I concede. I don't think I am capable of pulling this off without calling Renee after this to pull some strings for me.

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises—" I respond cautiously, allowing him to maintain his self-perceived dominance.

"—A promise is what I need in order to proceed with this meeting. Otherwise, I am of no help to you." He states, matter-of-factly.

"Fine," I sigh, "I'll see about your sentence being reduced to a couple decades. That's all I can promise you at this time."

Laurent grins triumphantly, "I can accept a couple decades… For now. Let's get started, Miss Sandy. What would you like to know?"

"I would like you to tell me about your accountant, the man who keeps your books. Well, kept."

He laughs at my question and shakes his head, "I never trusted anyone with my money. I handled all of my own finances."

I raise an eyebrow at this, but I am not the least bit surprised. I came prepared for almost any scenario. I open my briefcase and retrieve a blank folder, pulling out several pictures of Laurent in the company of Mr. Platinum. With a move that would make Kate proud, I slide the pictures over to him, spreading them out for him to see.

He appraises the pictures and looks up at me. There is the briefest flicker of fear is in his eyes that disappears as quickly as it appeared. With a blink of his chocolate brown eyes, he has now composed himself, for the most part.

"Ten years." He whispers, so low that I am forced to lean in to hear him.

"Ten years?" I question, looking for clarification.

"I want my sentence reduced to ten years if I am to tell you everything I know about this man. No more, no less."

I sigh and take my glasses off, pinching the bridge of my nose. _I am definitely going to have to call Renee after this._

"Done."

"Your word, Sandra. And I want my name left out of whatever it is your doing." He asserts, leaving me with only two options.

I let go of my nose and meet his eyes. I was correct in my earlier assumption, for his eyes are now filled with unbridled concern. _How dangerous could Mr. Platinum be to have the ability to garner such a reaction from someone like Laurent?_ I wonder silently to myself.

"This will be completely anonymous, Laurent. You have my word." I say, attempting to assuage his fears and encourage his candor.

He sighs before settling back in his chair and continuing.

"This man?" he points to Mr. Platinum, "Nobody knows his name. Everyone just refers to him as the Book Keeper. You do not reach out to him, he finds you. When he wants to make his services available to you, you will receive a black business card. It has nothing but a family crest on the front, a lion with three shamrocks underneath. The back has a time and place. Sometimes, people receive it by mail, others found it delivered onto their doorstep anonymously.

The allure of their business is that no one knows anything about them. Trust, there are many who have tried finding out their true identities—"

"I'm sorry," I interrupt, " _their_?"

"It's a family business. The book keepers have been around since the beginning of organized crime. The job is passed down from generation to generation. Each father—or mother sometimes—grooms their child for years until they are ready to take over the business. They take their job very seriously."

"What does he make you call him when you meet? Do you only meet once?"

"He does not introduce himself by name, none of them ever do. As I said, we meet on his terms. During the first meeting, you give him all the information he needs and tell him what you want done with your money. After that, he takes over your finances. He sends you a card once a year with a time and place to meet and review your finances. Other than that he contacts you by email."

"What's his email?" I ask, already knowing the answer, but it doesn't hurt to cover my bases. It could end up being _MrPlatinum_007_ , you never know.

He chuckles at my question, "It's different every time, and from a highly secured server. Miss Sandy, if I may be so blunt, this family does business with corrupt people who have immense power. There have been a number of their clients who have spent a great deal of money trying to find them. Their unsuccessful attempts only make the Book Keepers more prestigious."

"Does he have a preferred meeting place?" At this point, I'm leaning so far forward that the steel table is digging into my rib cage.

"No. Every time it's a different place, different time. Never the same location. Sometimes it's here in America, other times it's in another country."

_Damn, these guys are good._

"What else can you tell me?"

"That's all I know. That's all anyone knows. I told you, Miss Sandy, they are known for their mysteriousness. The only other thing I can tell you is that his son is being groomed to take over within the next few years."

I sit back in my chair, processing everything Laurent has told me thus far, which is essentially nothing. Nothing he has said has brought me closer to my goal: finding the true identity of Mr. Platinum.

"That's it?" I stare incredulously at Laurent.

"Do you know more about him than you did walking in? I assume these pictures and the ideas in your head are all you walked in here with. What I have told you, however insignificant you may find it to be, could cost me everything. The Book Keeper has access to most of my money, and the little he doesn't have access to… Well, I'm sure a man of his intelligence could locate it without much effort. Not to mention, I'm not his only client. Many would gladly have me wiped from existence in order to protect their wealth."

I feel my skin get hot as I grow flustered.

I didn't expect to come in here and be handed a copy of Mr. Platinum's social security card and driver's license. But damn it, when you've been working on a case for nearly two months, and you find your only lead that might actually go somewhere, you get hopeful. It's never taken me this long to find out the identity of one fucking person. I've always been the best at what I do.

I bang my fist on the table in frustration. The steel echoes in the empty room, giving the impression the bang was more forceful than it truly was.

Crowley takes advantage of the opportunity and barges into the room. His eyes bursting with hope that he might have a chance at some action in his mundane, mouth breathing life.

He looks between Laurent and I, disappointment deflating him more with each passing second.

I sigh and look at Laurent, who is eyeing me apprehensively.

I'm pissed that this lead has gone to shit, but I can't ignore the fact that he put his life on the line to tell me this information—however useless it is to me.

"You still have my word. I'll make some phone calls and see what I can do. Thank you for your time, Laurent."

I pick up the photos and stand to leave. Before I walk out the door, Laurent calls my name. I peer over my shoulder at him. His eyes almost seem laced with…concern?

"Tread lightly, Miss Sandy. You don't know how deep the rabbit hole goes. You are dealing with much more than a man, but with his lethal cliental as well." He says before lowering his eyes back down to the table in front of him.

It's the second time I've heard this warning, but this time it sends chills down my spine. I leave without looking back at him, trying to keep my heart from beating out of my own chest.

Before I make it to the rental car, I hear _P.I.M.P._ by 50 Cent blast from my purse. Puzzled, I search for the source.

I take my phone out and see it's Emmett calling me. He must have guessed the passcode to my phone for the hundredth time and changed his contact ringtone. With a roll of my eyes, I answer.

"Classy, Em." I snort, unable to keep the smile from reaching my voice.

He giggles, "Like my new ringtone, huh?"

"It's a step up from the last one, for sure. What'd you find out?"

"Nothing but dick. Just confirmed it's a family business, but they keep their shit on lock down. No one knows anything. You?"

I'm too disappointed to use the dick statement against him.

"Same." I kick the wheel of the car, reminded again of the little progress we've made on this case in two long months.

"Whatever. Let's just get home and keep rereading what we've got. Don't worry, Bells. We'll find something soon enough." He tries sound hopeful, but I can hear the irritation in his voice.

Emmett and I head home, tails tucked between our legs, beyond aggravated with this assignment.

Two weeks later, we're at our wits end rereading case files. Our apartment is a mess. There are papers thrown all around the house, even in the bathrooms. For the past few days, we've opted to work from home, not wanting to waste valuable time on the commute and avoiding all office distractions.

We're sitting at the kitchenette eating left over Chinese take-out from a few nights ago when Emmett looks up from a document.

"You remember Stacy?" He asks.

I look up from my cold low mien, scrunching my face in confusion. "Who?"

"Stacy Grace. The one with the two first names? I dated her for a few months when we were stationed in Chicago early last year. Big tits, little waist."

"No," I dead pan, "you've dated so many women, I couldn't possibly remember them by name anymore."

He shakes his head at me, "Anyways, she used to make me take her to this coffee shop in downtown Chicago, The Coffee Studio. She loved their coffee. They serve it with little designs on the foam. They always changed them every season or for the holidays. At Christmas they had these little trees on them, and for Valentine's Day they designed hearts in the foam. It was really cute."

"Okay…?" I look at him with wide questioning eyes, failing to find the relevance of this particular tidbit of information. My brother has officially gone off the deep end.

"But what they're also known for are their cups. They have these high quality, brick red cups with their logo on them." He hands me a few pictures.

I look at the first one and see Mr. Platinum, his copper haired son, and Royce King. The same picture Kate had shown us in our first briefing. But now I see something I didn't notice before. There, in the hands of Mr. Platinum's son, is a brick red coffee cup.

I flip through the pictures, now looking for the cup in each one. In every picture, there he is holding that cup.

"Bella, these pictures were all taken throughout the last two years. They're with different people, but it's the same cup. There's only one Coffee Studio...Who knew Stacy Grace was good for more than just great sex?" Emmett chuckles, beaming from the discovery.

"A fucking coffee cup." I say, rolling my eyes. I start laughing and find myself unable to stop.

Now it's Emmett's turn to look at me like I've lost my mind.

Once I settle down and wipe the tears from my eyes, I turn back to Emmett.

"For almost three months, we've been racking our brains over this stupid Mr. Platinum, and he gets made because of his son's choice in decorated, overpriced coffee?"

Em chuckles, "I guess when you put it that way, it is hilarious."

"Fucking finally." I sigh, "I'm so tired of reading case files."

I stand and stretch, ready for the great night's sleep ahead of me.

"Time for a stake out!" Emmett exclaims, picking up Lumos for a goofy celebratory dance.


	4. The Duffle Bag Debacle

**THE DUFFLEBAG DEBACLE**

Sitting on a plane, headed to Chicago, I glance over at Emmett and see that he can still barely contain his excitement. I cannot remember the last time I saw him so amped up about something.

After Emmett and I found the connection between the cup and Mr. Platinum, we had a briefing with Kate the following morning. She explained to us what the next step in our mission would be.

Our first step is to fly to Chicago and set up shop. Em and I will surveil the coffee house in hopes of sighting Mr. Platinum's son—Jazz helping us remotely. Once we have his daily routine down, we will report back to headquarters and see how best to go undercover. Our goal is to get as close to the Book Keeper's as possible without drawing suspicion to ourselves or our objective.

We only had two days to prepare after the briefing. This morning, we stopped by Renee and Charlie's to have breakfast with our family before flying out around noon. With missions like these, it is never certain how long you will need to stake out a target before getting the intel needed to move on further.

The plane is about to land in Chicago, and I am more than excited to have a few hours to myself. We are starting tomorrow morning, so I plan on taking full advantage of my Sunday 'off' to explore Chicago. I purchased my ticket for the Art Institute of Chicago yesterday before packing, knowing I would have the time to spare. Emmett is meeting up with an old Special Forces friend for drinks, leaving me to an evening alone in the city.

Once arriving, we hop a cab to our hotel, located on the outskirts of town. We don't want to risk having a run in with Mr. Platinum, especially since we are not even sure if he lives here.

I check in at the front desk and head to my room. I find my number and realize that Emmett's room is directly across the hall. I enter swiftly and set my bags down by the bed. The scent of freshly laundered sheets mixed with the lingering stench of stale cigarettes is enough to make me wish they could have spotted for a better hotel. Unfortunately, though, 'lavish' isn't in the job description. I take this opportunity to grab a shower; washing away the airport must that has settled onto my skin. Feeling refreshed and ready for a night on the town, I step out of the shower, facing myself in the mirror.

I made the mistake of asking Alice for help with an idea for my hair. For my last mission, I cut my hair short and dyed it black. But since then my hair has grown out and faded back to my natural brown.

Alice, jumping at any chance to improve my look, took me to her favorite salon. The stylist started with a shampoo and condition, and then added some feathered layers into my board straight hair. From there, he and Alice took it a step further by deciding a good dye job was in order. When I was finally allowed to look in a mirror, I was shocked to find myself a blonde. Darker at the roots, the dirty blonde hair progressively lightened to my hair's tips. The ombré style was a little too chic for me, but Alice insisted it looked fabulous. She had already guilt tripped me about not being able to go to her next sonogram appointment, so I didn't want to add to the list of disappointments by changing my hair to a more comfortable shade.

Alice and Jasper announcing their pregnancy made me realize how much Emmett and I miss when we leave for our missions. I love my job, don't get me wrong, but it has it's downsides much like any other. After we finish this job, I think Em and I would benefit from taking on assignments that don't require us to spend as much time in the field. I will have to talk to him, but I am sure he feels the same. At the end of the day, I want to be able to spend more time with my family, especially now that it's growing.

Once settled into our rooms, I drive Em over to the bar he's meeting his friend at. Not knowing how late he will be out, he opts to take a cab back to the hotel, but promises to keep me updated so I don't worry too much about him. We agree to meet for breakfast in the lobby tomorrow at seven.

I arrive at the Institute, quickly walking up the steps, eager to feast my eyes on the beautiful artworks on display. I'm not an art expert by any means, but for as long as I can remember I have enjoyed going to museums, showcases, galleries; anywhere that I could view precious pieces of an artist's soul. I could spend hours perusing the exhibitions, trying to interpret the artist's message behind their pieces. In college I took as many art classes as I could, and they ended up being some of my favorites.

I find myself standing in front of a piece done by Andy Warhol, completely in awe. It is one of Liz Taylor in his trademark Pop Art style.

I have a few of his Campbell's soup prints hanging in my living room. He is a contemporary favorite of mine, even though he passed away a couple years before I was born.

Slowly admiring all the pieces I pass, I head over to the religious art exhibit.

I stop in front of a painting of a woman holding her child closely. I step forward to read the description, already knowing what it says. _The Virgin and Child._

"Beautiful." A velvety smooth voice says from somewhere beside me.

I startle, having not realized I was not alone. It is almost closing time for the museum meaning there are only a handful of people left wandering the halls, most of which are either employees or college students.

If he wasn't blinking or breathing, I would have surely thought the man standing next to me was a statue of a Greek god. A modern interpretation of Adonis would look like if he walked this Earth today.

The Adonis is wearing black slacks and a crisp, light green button up, the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows. His must have known that wearing that shirt would accentuate his gorgeous emerald eyes in such a way that every female within a ten-mile radius would find themselves soaked at their core at the mere sight of him. Mission accomplished, sir.

His five o'clock shadow does nothing to hide his strong jawline. If anything, it makes me want to run my tongue along it more. His stubble is a few shades darker than his hair, which is the strangest shade of auburn. It looks like a mosaic of browns and red, perfectly blended, coming together harmoniously to form a glorious thick mane. The style looks as though he's tirelessly run his hands through it all day. On any other guy it would look messy and unkempt, but on him it embodies the definition of perfection.

"The painting, I mean." He says, that deep voice assaulting me once again, bringing me back to reality.

_Jesus, even that sounds like pure sex._

I'm surprised I haven't melted into a puddle on the floor—my temperature having risen at least ten degrees in the measly few seconds I have been in his presence, matching that of my rapidly beating of my heart. This must have been how Aphrodite felt when she laid eyes on Adonis for the first time.

I assume he's leaving an art session; probably a male model for the art students here. Seems only fitting.

I suddenly want to enroll in those classes just so I can see him naked. I would probably flunk out the first day. Although, I'm unsure if the cause would be that I was too busy gawking or that I'd fail miserably attempting to duplicate his perfection.

I can already picture myself pleading with the professor.

_"Please, professor. He's just too fucking perfect! I mean, look at him. Even you have to admit, any drawing of him would pale in comparison to the real thing."_

_"Yes, I understand Miss Swan." She'd agree with me. "It's better that you fuck him instead of draw him, that would be the most productive and educational way to become familiar with his body."_

"Uh, anyway… Sorry to bother." He says coolly, looking at me slightly confused.

I shake my head, pushing thoughts of paint brushes coated in acrylics running across his abs.

"Oh, no, no. You weren't bothering me." _By all means, bother away._

He gives me a crooked grin and I have to look down at myself to make sure I haven't started to evaporate where I stand. He steps back to his previous position next to me, facing the painting.

"You like Bitti?" He asks as he examines the portrait, referring to the creator of the masterpiece before us.

"I prefer Titian, personally, but I do admire Bitti for his graceful use of evangelization through art. He does it so flawlessly." I look back to his painting, marveling at the way he has managed to capture Mary's adoration for her baby, Jesus, in an elegant yet refined manner.

"Beautiful and she knows her art." He mutters to himself softly, forgetting I'm standing close enough to hear.

"Do you have a preference?" I ask, entertained at how adorable he looks talking to himself.

He snaps his head towards me and realizes a second later that I am still referring to art.

"I think I'd take Titian over Bitti as well. I love his mythological paintings too much." He smirks, as if he's thinking of an inside joke.

Loud footsteps are suddenly approaching from the end of the large hallway, interrupting our conversation. We both look to the source and spot a heavy set security guard making his way over to us.

"We're closing in a few minutes, folks. If you could please head towards the main entrance, that would be great. The lights are going to time off here in a minute or two. Don't want you getting lost." He drones, passing us without a glance.

I look back at Adonis, smile and indicate goodbye with a slight nod of my head before walking towards the entrance.

"I didn't get your name!" He calls out once I'm down the hall and almost turning the corner.

"I didn't give it to you!" I shout back over my shoulder, keeping my pace. I smile the whole way to the car.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**EMMETT POV**

Slipping out of the car, I casually call back a good-bye to Bells, promising to check up on her later.

"Don't have too much fun, big guy." She laughs, rolling her eyes.

"I wouldn't be Emmett if I wasn't planning on a little fun." I wink as I close the car door.

I approach the bar entrance and shoot my buddy a text letting him know I am walking through the door.

_Yo, G… where you at – E_

_At the bar – G_

When I enter, I am greeted by a seemingly crowded and lively bar, accentuated by its smaller size. Looking towards the bar in search of Garrett, a hand waving excitedly catches my attention and I see G in the corner.

Leaning against it with a beer in hand, Garret's blue eyes are scouting out his next lay—still the same slick fucker I remember from our days in the force. He's grown out his blonde hair similar to Jazz's and has it pulled into a bun.

"Jesus Christ. What's up with these man buns? Not you, too G!" I groan as I near him.

Laughing, he takes my hand as we exchange a bro hug. "Hey, the ladies dig it. Who am I to deny them what they want?" he says, a sly smirk sneaking across his face.

I chuckle, "As if you don't get enough already."

I nod to the bartender and order a beer before turning back to Garrett.

"So, how you been, man? What are you up to these days?"

"I work freelance security now-a-days. Go wherever business takes me, mainly odd jobs though." He responds with a shrug of his shoulders.

"What job you workin' now?" I ask, sipping my Bud Light.

"Some snobby rich guy. Paranoid about being nuked and invaded by aliens. Has me setting up an undetectable safe house for him with a built in bunker. God, this guy is psycho... I have to drive out to bum fuck Egypt, and then walk about ten miles the rest of the way... Says the government puts tracking devices on every car and can't risk it." He finishes, eyes glued to the bartender's ass.

"Damn, bro... Pays good?"

He smirks, "Incredible. This guy just threw a couple mil at me and asked that I keep it secret."

I nod my head appreciatively, downing the rest of my beer and signaling for another.

"What about you, man? What's the Black Swan been up to?"

"Ugh, I almost forgot about that stupid ass nickname..." I wince. "I have a business with my sister back in DC. Notary office."

G loses his shit, doubling over and howling with laughter.

I respond, rolling my eyes at the fucker. "Listen man, I know it doesn't sound all that great, but it's nice to be working with my sis and be close to family. Pretty chill life, home by six... Good deal."

Garrett composes himself and wipes the tears from his eyes. "Bro, are you fucking serious man? How long have we known each other? Don't come at me with that bullshit. Let's be real, what are you _really_ up to?" He finishes, snickering.

"Dude, I _am_ fucking serious. I'm a notary."

The smile on Garrett's face falters a little before widening again. He leans in, speaking low enough for only me to hear. "E... We've been best friends for how long now? Not only that—I saw you out there man, hell I was there beside you. You were the definition of a perfect soldier. Lethal, precise, never missed a target. A guy like you isn't one to sit still." He raises an eyebrow at me.

I sigh, looking away from G. I know I could trust him, since he has quite literally taken a bullet for me. But I couldn't even tell my own family what I did.

"I may... dabble in _other_ extracurricular activities. But that's all I can say, man." I mutter.

"Ha!" G slaps his knee, "I knew it! It's alright man, that's all I need to know. I wouldn't have let you live that notary shit down if I knew that was all you were up to. Wait 'til I tell Sam you tried to convince me you were a notary!"

"Whatever, asshole." I quip, glaring at him.

Something behind Garrett catches me eye and I look past him. The grip on my beer bottle tightens as I lay my eyes on the hottest piece of ass I have ever seen.

I start at her fuck me pumps—which are bright red and add a couple inches to her already impressive height. It feels like several minutes have passed before I reach her ass, but man, it was worth the wait.

She wears these light-blue jeans that push up her cheeks so perfectly. Her white tank top is tucked into them. The tank itself has no back, showing off her deliciously perfect skin—and from this angle I can see a sliver of the most glorious side boob. The straps that line her collar bone are so thin they look as if they might break supporting her full rack. She has her golden hair tied into one of those complicated braid thingies, with a few locks hanging loose around her face, which unfortunately I still can't see.

Fingers appear in my line of sight, blocking her from my view entirely as they snap together.

"Yo, E... Where'd you go?" Garrett chuckles.

I look back at him, "Oh, yeah. Sorry, man."

He glances back to where I was looking and barks a laugh, "Don't even try it, bro."

I raise an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

"Blonde goddess over there... I come here a lot. She does, too. Never seen a guy successfully land that one. Nothing but thrown drinks and red streaked faces in her wake."

I look back, examining her again. Her shoulders are relaxed as she laughs with two girlfriends. I wouldn't be surprised if the heavens opened up and a beam of fucking light came down on this girl as she laughed... She lit up the entire room with that smile.

"You know me. I like a challenge." I wag my eyebrows at Garrett.

I turn to the bartender and order three drinks. Two of them are weak girly ones, but the third, that one's a strong one—a man's drink.

"Pink drinks to the brunettes, please. Old Fashioned to the lovely blonde." I nod to the bartender. She gives me a smirk before passing the drinks to a waitress and relaying the information.

"What are you doing?" G narrows his eyes at me.

"G... A woman like that?" I shrug, pointing at her. "She doesn't deserve some prissy girly drink that only gets you drunk after slamming back eight on an empty stomach. She needs a strong drink that compliments her alpha female personality."

"You got all that... By eye fucking her for thirty seconds?" Garrett asks, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

"Nah, I'm just smart and staying far enough away to not have a drink thrown in my face." I snort.

The drinks arrive at the table and the waitress hands the Bahama mama's to her friends. When she hands the blonde the Old Fashioned, she points to me from across the room.

I stay seated and look away, not wanting her to believe I care enough to watch her receive the drink. Truth is, I'd give anything to see those lips touch the rim of the glass as she takes a sip.

I fall back into conversation with Garrett, he tells me stories about his weird cliental and I offer the stories I deem harmless.

G is in the middle of one involving a helicopter, a machine gun, and a tiny Asian woman when the sound of glass slamming against the bar interrupts.

I slowly turn around and meet steely, sapphire eyes. _Jesus, Swan. Sapphire... Really? What are you, some pansy ass novelist?_

"I'm capable of buying my own drinks, you know." She declares. I don't miss, however, that the glass once sporting an Old Fashioned is completely empty.

"Oh, I'm very well aware of that. I just thought I'd be a gentlemen and offer some lovely ladies a drink, that's all... You have a nice night, miss." I twist back around to Garrett, asking him about the Asian lady's deal with the helicopter situation.

"Yeah, so..." Garrett is eyeing me like I'm out of my mind for turning away from what could very well be Aphrodite herself. "Anyway... We're flying over the Himalayas and she—"

I feel a tap on my shoulder, halting the conversation yet again and I slowly turn.

_And that's how you play the game, boys and girls._

I look down at her—well, I wouldn't say down, I've only got about three inches on her with those heels on—and offer my world famous, dimply smile.

"Well... Thanks." She says, her eyes shifting around as she fidgets a little. I swear I see her hand jerk towards my drink, no doubt fighting the urge to throw it at me—but she has no reason to, so she stands there, conflicted.

I'm sure this is the first time a man hasn't thrown himself at her. This is uncharted territory—something I'm using to my advantage.

The best advice I have ever received was from my dad, Charlie. He said, "Always make the woman feel like she's in control—when in all reality, you're the one behind the wheel." That right there has gotten me more pussy than I could have ever imagined.

"It was my pleasure." I tip my head towards her, but my body betrays me and my eyes stray a little further down just for a second.

She catches me, narrowing her eyes. Shit, she's on to me.

We stare at each other for a few seconds. I think she expects me to ask her out, or offer another drink, but I'm not budging.

She huffs and glides back to her table, looking as confused as she is irritated.

I turn back to Garrett, who has dropped trying to play it cool, and his eyebrows are so far up his forehead they almost touch his hairline.

"Bro, what the fuck was that? She's never even said two words to a guy, before!" He exclaims, punching my shoulder.

"Calm down, man. The line has been cast, she's just swimming around debating on whether to bite or not. You'll see." I wink, glancing at her table.

She's faced away from me now but I can see her shoulders are tense and she doesn't appear to be engaging in any conversation with her overly giggly friends.

G picks up where he left off in the story as I order another round. We sit and talk shit for two fucking hours and this chick doesn't even turn back around.

Finally, around midnight I see her sashaying towards G and I, but I act oblivious.

She walks right past me and orders another Old Fashioned from the bartender, standing behind me as I face Garrett. It takes everything I've got not to turn around, pick her up, throw her over my shoulder, and bolt back to my hotel room. Damn, I want this girl bad.

Returning to her friends, she barely casts a glance in my direction. I see Garrett is pretty close to getting shit faced, and I'm starting to get a little hazy myself, so I decide it would be best to call it a night.

I make a show of calling the bartender over to close my tab, hoping maybe to catch Blondie's attention, but I don't feel another tap on my shoulder as I sign the check.

I did everything right. Kept my distance, was polite and didn't throw myself at her, even acted like she didn't exist for half the night. Maybe this chick really did like guys throwing it at her, and subsequently playing hard to get.

I pick up my glass and drain the rest of the Jack and Coke.

"Holy mother fucking shit." Garrett breathes.

"You feelin' it, bro?" I chuckle, shaking my head at him.

He reaches for something next to me and holds it up. It's a business card, slightly wet from being put underneath my glass.

On the back there's a number written on it. I take it out of G's hand and flip it over.

**FINANCIAL ACCOUNTANT**

**ROSALIE CULLEN**

I feel my smile grow ten times larger.

I don't even make it back to the hotel before I punch her number into my phone.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**BPOV**

As I'm pouring my coffee at the breakfast bar, I think back to last night with my green-eyed Greek god. _Try and say that three times, fast._

Half of me thinks I've gone crazy and made him up, the other half is disappointed I didn't jump his bones right there in the middle of the institute. I don't think Mary and baby Jesus would have appreciated that much, though.

"Morning… How was your night?" Em comes up beside me, balancing a tray with three plates piled with food.

"Morning, Em. It was actually really nice! The art institute here is amazing. I called it an early night and was in bed by ten. How was yours?" I ask, sitting down at a nearby table.

"Good." He says before stuffing an entire croissant in his mouth.

"Just good?" I probe, my fork full of eggs stopped in midair for a second.

He looks up at me from his omelet, "Uh, yeah? Just your typical night with Garrett. Getting drunk and talking shit."

"Hmm... If you say so." I shrug, focusing my attention on the blueberry cream cheese I'm spreading on my bagel.

The drive to The Coffee Studio takes a little longer than expected due to the heavy traffic, but we still arrive relatively early in the day. Emmett parks the rental, a dark grey SUV, on the opposite side of the street of the café.

I pull out the ear pieces from the glove compartment, handing one to Emmett and placing the other in my ear. Once I click the small button on it, Jasper's voice rings in my ear.

"Morning Sunshines!"

"Hey Jazz." I laugh, "All set?"

"Yep, got you guys all hooked up. I'm hacked into all the security cameras of the neighboring businesses, so I've got a pretty good angle on all sides. Under the driver's seat there should be a camera just in case."

"Alrighty. Thanks, Jazz."

"Call if ya need me. I'll be watching, too." He hangs up the call.

Em and I settle into our seats and wait, watching the coffee shop for any sign of Mr. Platinum.

"This is a step up from reading files all day, huh? People watching is a great pastime." Emmett rubs his hands together and wags his eyebrows at me, ready for the game we play during stakeouts. We guess people's lives or what they're talking about. It makes sitting in a car for fifteen hours a day a lot more interesting.

Stakeouts aren't as glamourous as they seem on TV. The perp doesn't just miraculously appear after a cup of coffee and half a donut.

"So, how long do you think we're gonna have to wait for this guy to show up?" I ask before we start on the game.

"Hmm… I don't know. Let's assume the worst and say he just met with someone yesterday. There were twelve photos with his son in them, out of those, seven had the coffee cup. Over the course of two years? That's maybe once every three and a half months? But it's sporadic, since Laurent told you it's never the same place or time. Given that, I'm thinking… Four months. Six, tops." He nods his head, comfortable with his theory, as if we're not the ones who will be subjected to sit in a car for six months. We can only hope that Mr. Platinum's son comes back in town for his favorite cup of coffee way before then.

"Lovely. Just in time for Alice's baby." I remark sarcastically before taking a bite out of my bagel.

"Well, at least you get to call her while we're on stake out duty. We're not officially under cover yet. That's a plus in my book."

"Are you ever pessimistic about anything in your life?" I ask, genuinely interested in how he will respond.

"You should know the answer to that by now, Bells."

"Very true." I roll my eyes and look out the front window at a couple arguing. I perk up at this, "Oh! Got one. Couple over there, guy waving his hands in frustration at his girl."

Emmett spots the couple from across the street and laughs, "Too easy. They're arguing about money, she has a shopping bag in her hand and keeps flinging it around like she's ashamed it doesn't have more in it."

"Or maybe she's frustrated because he won't let her have her real birthday wish—a threesome with another very large, very hairy man." I look at the woman who has now shoved the bag into the man's chest and stormed off.

Emmett lowers the window a little as the couple gets closer to the car.

"Oh come on, Megan! Don't be like this. My next paycheck's coming soon I promise I'll get it for you then… Come back here!" The guy yells after her, desperate for her to turn around.

I sigh, accepting my loss. "Okay, fine. First point."

Again, Emmett and I fall into a routine like this for a few weeks. We get to the coffee shop every morning when it opens around six, and leave again for the night once they close up shop at nine.

We spend a few days each week coming up with a proposition for the CIA. It consists of hiring a specific number of agents who are in charge of all the stake outs. Coming up with salary, paid time off, and other provisions for this position fills most of our days.

I start praying every night before bed that this guy shows up quickly. At least when doing research we're in the comfort of our own home or office. Now we're in a stuffy car, unable to even get out and stretch.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Being stuck in a car all day, every day isn't what I had pictured when joining the CIA. But after some time being a field agent, I began to learn that you have to suffer through the mundane in order to get to the action. It was like this on every mission. You scout your target, watch, and wait. Once you find out enough information, the real shit starts.

The first day of August is a cool, overcast one. Chicago temperature is lowering, preparing for the winter. I revel in this; I prefer the cold.

I end my FaceTime call with Alice—she video called me to show me what Nox did to her couch pillows—when I see the time. It's only ten in the morning, we've still got about eight hours ahead of us. The café closes at six on Sundays, which I'm thankful for, but it's of no help at the beginning of our shift.

"I think I'm gonna take a nap." I push the seat back a little and pull my baseball cap down over my eyes. "Wake me up if you see something interesting." I mumble over to Emmett.

"Okay, so around Christmas time?"

"Ha-ha. Look at Mr. Optimistic, finally starting to crack." I smirk, closing my eyes.

"Hey I still got half a dozen donuts left. Lookin' like a good day to me."

I fall asleep quickly, already accustomed to the leather seats in this car. My dreams are filled with giant cats chasing after me. When they claw at me, instead of blood, cotton filling comes pouring out of me. I'm sewing myself up after a brutal attack, preparing for the next wave of killer cats, when Emmett jostles me awake.

"Bella! Bella! Wake the fuck up, _it's Mr. Platinum_!"

I jerk awake in my seat, highly alert and push my hat back up. I wildly look around look for the familiar head of platinum blonde hair. It is only after a few seconds that I spot him sitting at a table outside The Coffee Studio.

He looks so ordinary. Granted, he's drop dead gorgeous, but still, just ordinary. He's drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper like any other person. I also notice that he looks pretty young to have a son who is all grown up. I can't see his features in detail, being this far away, but from what I can see, he is nothing like I imagined. His face is too kind to be dealing with the likes of the people he deals with. It could just be the distance, though.

"Are you sure? This guy looks too vanilla." I squint my eyes trying to get a better look at him.

"Bella, it's him. I'm positive. It's the right hair color, right build. Everything checks out. Besides, these aren't cold blooded killers we're dealing with. Just the bunch of nerds who handle their money." Em scoffs.

I continue scrutinizing him for a few more minutes when he is suddenly joined by another man. I look over to see who is joining him.

_Holy fuck balls, it's Adonis!_

"Adonis? How do you know his name?"

_Fuck, I said that out loud._

"Uh no, I don't," I try and fake a laugh as if to brush it off, "it's a possible alias I found in one of the files. Just guessing."

Emmett furrows his eyebrows at me, "What file was that in?"

"Guys, are you getting this?" Jasper's voice fills the car, coming from the Bluetooth speaker installed in it.

I jump at the chance to get out of this conversation, "Yes, yes. Mr. Platinum and his son are having fucking coffee like a bunch of normal people."

"Once they're done, you need to follow him. This could be our only chance for another few months."

Emmett and I wait, barely blinking as we stare out at Mr. Platinum and his son, Adonis. I briefly wonder what their real names are, having only ever called them by their made up nicknames.

"Fuck, I wish we had two cars. I didn't think they'd both show up here at the same time." Emmett growls.

"Well, let's follow Mr. Platinum. He's technically the one in charge for now, so he's the one with all the books. Maybe we'll get lucky and his son will come back. He's in town, I assume he won't be here for just a day."

As I say this to Emmett, I realize that Adonis has been in town much longer than a day. I ran into him at the museum almost three weeks ago. Why has he been here for so long?

The waitress from the café comes out to take Adonis' order. She laughs a little too hard and finds any excuse to touch him. Even from here, her flirting is blatantly obvious.

_Hands off my man, blondie._

"Careful, home girl. That's one rabbit hole you definitely don't want to fall into." Emmett warns.

I whip my head towards Emmett, freaked out that I've voiced my thoughts, to my dismay, out loud again. There's no way I could ever come up with an excuse for that. But he's looking at the waitress, cautioning her as if she can hear him from in the car.

The two are left alone and talk for a quite some time in front of the café. After almost an hour, they stand and embrace before parting ways.

Emmett starts the car, preparing to follow Mr. Platinum.

It's just after lunch time so traffic isn't as heavy now with a lot of people having returned to work. This makes it easier to follow him without having some road-raged psycho blasting their horn at us for being slow.

I watch as Mr. Platinum turns the corner of the street, Emmett far enough behind so that he won't notice our car, but close enough to keep him in our sights.

We watch as he gets into a white, four door Jaguar. Even the car seems ordinary compared to the amount of money I am sure this guy makes.

"Fuck yes! Show time." Emmett steps on the gas as Mr. Platinum pulls onto the street.

We follow him for about twenty minutes before the roads turn into two lane streets. The houses start getting farther apart from each other the longer the car ride.

Em has a little trouble with staying far enough behind so that it doesn't look like we're following Mr. Platinum. It's the middle of the day and there aren't many cars that we are able to hide behind.

After another fifteen minutes, the white car suddenly takes a sharp right onto a private road. Emmett speeds up a little and passes where the car turned. He doubles back after a few minutes and we slow down once we reach the dirt road the car pulled into.

"I don't think you guys should keep following him, it's too bright outside." Jasper's voice comes back over the speaker.

"I know. We'll come back tonight when it's dark. We don't know what's up there." Emmett opens the maps app on his phone and drops a pin before driving back to the hotel.

Now that the adrenaline is gone, I have time to think about Adonis.

I should have known something so perfect was too good to be true. Of course he's a criminal. I stare out the window disappointedly.

"You okay?" Em looks over at me, concern ever present in his eyes.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I ask with my best attempt at nonchalance.

"I don't know. You're usually a lot more excited about these kinds of things. Our only lead is finally holding up and you're staring out the window, moping like Nox just tore up your favorite pillow."

"I'm not moping," I roll my eyes, "I'm just hungry. And I'm thinking about what's waiting for us up there."

"Good, I'm hungry, too. We'll find out the other stuff tonight."

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Once it's dark out, Emmett and I prepare to go back out to where we left Mr. Platinum.

I'm wearing comfortable black running pants, a black zip up training jacket and my favorite pair of Nike's. I'm tucking my gun into my waistband when I hear Em knock at my door.

I open it to a serious looking Emmett, ready for tonight. I put on a dark baseball cap before following him out to the car.

The ride is silent until Emmett pulls up about a quarter of a mile away from the turn Mr. Platinum's white car took earlier that day.

"We're just gonna scout out the place tonight, see why he's there." Emmett whispers.

"Em, you know we're not there yet, right? You don't have to whisper." I don't know why, but even saying the words doesn't stop me from whispering this back to him.

"Right. Sorry, just practicing."

We put in our ear pieces and exit the car, walking the rest of the way.

Jasper starts talking immediately once I have activated the piece.

"I have back up on standby in case you guys run into any trouble. Say the word and they'll be there in three minutes. Be careful, guys. Emmett, I hope you guys didn't have Mexican today."

"You know my farts are silent but deadly, don't even play!" Emmett hisses.

"2011 Tijuana trip begs to differ." Jazz snorts.

"I think you're getting confused with your farts. You might blow our cover all the way from DC with those things."

"Would you two shut the hell up for five minutes? We're here." I demand, rolling my eyes and continuing up the private road.

Em and I choose to walk in the trees surrounding the road to avoid any exposure if a car comes. Em follows behind, making sure our backs our covered while I scout what's in front of us.

We walk for ten minutes before the trees start thinning and the road becomes paved. I stop just shy of the last row of trees.

Emmett crashes into my back, not aware that I stopped.

"How you ever made in into Special Forces is beyond me." I mutter.

"I'll have you know I was the best in my squad." He boasts quietly.

I ignore him and grab a thick branch that's in my way and hold it down so I have a clear line of sight.

It's too dark to make out much, but there are a few lights on, illuminating parts of the seemingly massive house.

"Hand me the night vision binoculars, please." Speaking low enough for just Emmett to hear.

"What? I thought you brought the bag with you? You're the one who packed it."

" _What?_ Are you fucking kidding me?!" I seethe.

"Does it look like I'm fucking _kidding_?"

"Emmett, you had one job! I asked you to get it out of the car." I whisper-yell, jabbing him in the chest with a finger.

"Yeah you asked me to get it out, but you didn't ask me to bring it up. How am I supposed to know that's what you wanted?" He whisper-yells back to me.

"It's fucking common sense, Emmett! Why the fuck would I ask you to take it out and just leave it out side of the car?" I respond, not bothering to hide the anger and annoyance in my voice.

I hear Jazz cackling in my ear, finding his siblings' quiet argument amusing.

"Shut up, Jazz." I growl, "Emmett, go back to the car and get the bag. I'll wait here. And make sure you grab the bag and everything in it, not just the bag. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Yes, your Highness." Emmett mutters as he stomps back to the car.

I fume quietly, waiting for Emmett to return.

Twenty minutes later, he comes back with the bag and pulls out the night vision binoculars.

I silently turn back to the house, bringing the binoculars up to my eyes so I can get a better look.

I examine the perimeter of the house and find there are no guards on duty. Odd. Someone with this much of a need for secrecy should have some form of security. I look for cameras or any other sign of security tech.

"So far I only see two cameras on the front of the house, but no other sign of security. Let's circle around and see what's in the back."

Emmett nods and we walk along the edge of the tree line towards the back. It takes a few extra minutes, but it's better to be hidden for now. It's almost midnight, but I don't know the hours a crime boss' accountant works. He could be awake and roaming the house for all we know.

Once we reach the back side of the house, I pull down another thick branch to scout for any other signs of security Mr. Platinum might have.

"I don't see any cameras. This just keeps getting weirder. Why have cameras in the front but not the back?" I turn around and ask Emmett, feeling as though I have some of the puzzle pieces without the picture of what the puzzle itself is supposed to look like.

"Maybe there's reason. What's down there?" He points behind us, where it's too dark to see.

"Lake Michigan." Jasper answers, "I checked your location. The back of the house faces Lake Michigan. I assume that they rely on it as a form of protection for the back of the house."

Emmett taps my shoulder and points up to a tree about ten feet behind us.

"Fuck that was close." I whisper.

There's a camera facing in the direction of the lake attached to the top of the tree so it's unable to see us.

"If there is one, then there's probably more around here." Em states while looking cautiously about.

"Well we know there aren't any directly on the house, so we should get a little closer from this side." I say before walking towards the house.

I forget that I was holding onto a thick branch and let it go to as soon as I decided to get closer to the house. It snaps back and hits Emmett in the face with brutal force.

"Shit!" He swears.

"Ssshhh!" I smack him in the shoulder, reminding him we have to be quiet.

He looks down at me annoyed, bright red scratches all down the side of his face.

I whisper an apology before turning back around to walk towards the house. I try not to giggle along with Jasper, who is barely containing himself at this point.

"Don't tell me what happened. I'm having too much fun thinking of all the possibilities." Jazz snickers.

"Shut up, Jazz." Emmett grunts.

We make our way slowly towards the house until Emmett sticks his hand out in front of me, motioning to stop. We're about a hundred yards away now.

He nods his head towards the ground, indicating I should look a few feet in front of us. I have to wait a few seconds for my eyes to adjust before I understand what he's seeing.

There's a small, faint red line.

"Motion sensor." He murmurs.

I crouch down and use the binoculars to see into the house. There's a light coming from one of the windows.

The window shows half of an elaborate kitchen. There is a woman standing next to the stove, looking at a kettle, waiting for it to start steaming. She reaches up and opens a cabinet, taking out a mug. She's has a dark blue robe on, so I assume she's not a maid.

"Emmett I think they live here. This is their house." I whisper.

I hand him the binoculars so he can see into the house, he nods his head in agreeance after he appraises the woman.

"It makes sense. The Coffee Studio is a hole-in-the-wall café, mostly locals go there." He adds.

Suddenly the back door of the house opens, the light from within the house flooding the backyard.

"Shit." I stand up and we both sprint back to the edge of the trees, careful to keep our footsteps light.

Once we're well hidden behind the trees we look back to see who opened the door. It's Mr. Platinum, talking on a phone. He leisurely strolls through the garden as he converses for a few minutes. Once he is done with the phone call he walks back into the house.

We watch as light by light turns off until the house is shrouded in darkness. Em and I wait a few minutes before we start walking back towards the car.

"I can't believe they've been a two-hour flight away from us this whole time." Emmett gripes as we drive back to the hotel.

"I'll check who's name the house is under tomorrow morning. Then we'll see what Kate thinks is the next best step." Jasper says before leaving us to our own thoughts.

The whole drive back I think about any and all ways I can avoid seeing Adonis again. I fail to find any that seem rational and plausible. This mission is definitely going to be more difficult than I could have ever expected.


	5. The Flower Shop Debacle

**THE FLOWER SHOP DEBACLE**

The morning after we scouted the house, Emmett and I made our way back to the café in hopes of spotting Mr. Platinum's son.

My phone starts to buzz around noon, and I look to find Kate calling. Putting her on speaker so Emmett can hear, too, I answer.

"Good work." She starts, without so much as a hello, "Jasper found out that the house is registered under the name Elizabeth Masen. So far we've found nothing on her but a death certificate dated nearly ten years ago. It is possible she is a relative of the Bookkeeper, having left the house to him when she passed. We're doing a further background check in hopes of finding any small connection.

"Disregard the son for now. Follow the Bookkeeper and figure out his routine. That is how we'll find out your undercover identities and how best to infiltrate the target." She hangs up the call, not waiting for any sort of acknowledgment on our part. That's Kate for you.

"Ah, Kate. She's just so warm and fuzzy, you can't help but love her." Emmett states in a snarky tone before starting up the car and driving towards the hotel to pick up the necessities.

That night, Em and I place a few surveillance cameras strategically on a handful of trees surrounding the property, making sure to face them toward the drive way and house. Thankfully, Emmett remembers to bring everything this time. The cameras will tell us when Mr. Platinum leaves his house so we can effectively tail him. When the opportunity presents itself, a tracking device will be placed on his vehicle, making our jobs even easier.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Following around Mr. Platinum proves to be almost the most boring task—a close second to stake outs. After a couple days, we discern he has two accounting offices, each approximately a twenty-minute drive from his residence. The building he works mainly out of is located in a plaza between a nail salon and a Vietnamese take-out restaurant. The other is a large, multi-business building with individual offices inside. I have to admit, he is a pretty clever guy. He makes himself seem so boring, monotonously going from one job to the other, that no one would or could ever suspect he secretly works for the world's most dangerous criminals.

The offices both belong to Masen Accounting. Unfortunately for us, the only similarity is the last name. The company is registered to an Anthony Masen. To our dismay, we are unable to find anything sinister on this guy. Not so much as even a damn parking ticket. It looks as though he is a retired accountant, owning a few offices throughout the country. Masen's home office is in San Francisco, where he lives. The picture the DMV provided is not Mr. Platinum. Em and I believe this is a carefully crafted move, allowing Mr. Platinum to stay under the radar with nothing in his name, effectively avoiding a paper trail of any kind.

I hate to admit it, but lately I have been living for the weekday mornings the Adonis goes to work with his father. I get aggravated by the involuntary goosebumps that make their way across my skin at the mere sight of his Tesla rounding the corner.

There is no chance in Hell I could ever be with a guy like him—my job would never allow it. But more so, I don't know if my heart would allow it. Still, it never hurt anyone to just look.

After two weeks, we have Mr. Platinum's schedule memorized, so much so I could probably recite it in my sleep. He drives to work every weekday around 7:30 a.m., leaves the office around 5:30 p.m., drives to a flower shop approximately fifteen minutes down the road, then drives straight home, arriving just in time for dinner with his wife. The flowers, as always, are for her. Jasper ran a background check on the flower shop and it's employees and it turns out they are a legit business. Weekend mornings are reserved for breakfast with his wife—he cooks—then spends the rest of the day at his residence.

I'm completely consumed with a cross word puzzle while we sit in our car, parked in the plaza's parking lot, when Emmett huffs loudly in frustration.

"Jesus, _fuck_. Now I'm starting to question if this guy really is Mr. Platinum. How can he be so dull?" He fumes, rubbing his hands through his hair haphazardly.

"Beats the hell out of me. If he is, this might just be the best cover in the history of criminals." I respond sarcastically. I can understand Em's frustration. We thought we were tailing a dangerous individual, but it seems we are just following a boring accountant who happens to love his wife.

We see Mr. Platinum and Adonis exit the office at their usual time. Em and I shrink back into our seats instinctually, making us harder to see. Em starts the car and we begin to follows Mr. Platinum, making sure he goes back home.

Once he does, we start heading back to the hotel.

"Maybe we should follow his son for a bit." Emmett suggests with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"No!" I say too quickly, causing Emmett to look at me sideways and arch an eyebrow, the perplexed look on his face not one that could be easily missed. I mentally calm myself down, not understanding my sudden outburst at the idea of following the Adonis around. "Kate said we follow Mr. Platinum. He's the head of the business right now. He's training his son. That in and of itself means his son isn't doing anything without him. Following him would be a lost cause."

My phone vibrates in my pocket. Pulling it out, I check the notification. One of our camera's detected movement again.

"Shit, turn back around Em. He's leaving again." I say, the urgency ever apparent in my voice.

Emmett does a quick turn around and slams the gas. We make it just in time to see Mr. Platinum's car exit the private road that leads to his home. It is dusk, which makes following him exponentially easier.

We follow Mr. Platinum for twenty minutes or so, heading towards Chicago. Suddenly, the white jaguar turns into a gated community. Luckily, the car in between us pulls into the same community, so us pulling in behind won't look as suspicious.

The jaguar pulls up to one of the town homes, turning into the drive way and parks. Mr. Platinum gets out of the car and walks over to the passenger side. Opening the door, his wife exits the vehicle.

Even from a hundred feet away, I can feel the love radiate off of them. I can see it in way his hand reaches out and grasps hers gently while she's getting out the car; sense it in the way his hand naturally finds the small of her back as he guides her to the door. They exchange a quick, loving kiss before knocking on the door, alerting the owners their guests have arrived.

I don't catch who opens the door, too busy gawking at the happy couple.

"Did you see who lives there?" I ask Emmett, trying to cover the lack of attention I paid to such an important detail.

He stares straight ahead, apparently not having heard me, as he sports a strange look on his face.

"Emmett?" I probe.

He whips his head towards me, the look from a few seconds ago now morphed into a serious one. "No, but now is as good time as any to put that tracker on his car."

I reach for the bag located in the back seat that holds the tracker.

"I'll do it, I'm faster." I say as I open the door to exit the car.

"I'll keep look out." Em nods.

I walk at a relaxed pace towards the jaguar, not wanting to arouse suspicion to any neighbors that might be outside. Once I reach it, I crouch down next to the passenger's side door. I look around quickly before I lay down flat on my back and slide underneath the car. Once in position, I place the small tracking device near the axle holding the wheel.

I quickly return to an upright position and head back to our car, breathing a sigh a relief once I am safely behind those four metal doors.

"Damn, I almost forgot what that feels like." I murmur. The adrenaline rush when sneaking around is so euphoric, it is dangerously addicting.

The task was quite boring compared to other jobs I have had to do in past missions, but the stand still we have been in over the last few months has contributed to this stalemate of sorts. It's like my body knows this is just beginning, and couldn't help but shiver in anticipation at this mundane task.

Em laughs as he starts driving to the hotel. Now that we have the tracking device in place, we don't have to constantly tail Mr. Platinum.

"Hey, Bells?" Emmett probes, questioningly.

"Hmm?" I open my eyes and realize I've almost fallen asleep on the short drive.

"I think I have an idea."

When I don't hear him continue, I turn my head to look at him. He has his phone in his hand, dialing Kate.

"Daniels." Kate answers with her version of hello—stating her last name.

"Kate, is there any way we can look into buying that nail salon that's closing next to Masen Accounting? I think it's a great opportunity to set up a neighboring business to keep a closer eye on the Bookkeeper and get to know him a little more personally."

"I can make it happen. What else do you need?" Kate responds, emotionless as ever.

"Uh, do you know what's required to be a manager for a coffee shop?" Em jests.

The joke, unsurprisingly, doesn't faze Kate in the least. "I'll set you up with a good resume, Emmett."

Em's eyes go wide before he tries to cut her off, "No, it's for—"

Kate ends the call, cutting him off before he can finish.

I laugh, knowing soon enough that Emmett will have to wear a red apron.

"That was supposed to be for you... Now _I'm_ gonna get stuck being the barista." He gripes.

I double over in laughter, now with a full blown image in my head, including Emmett drawing hearts in coffee foam.

He stares at me, unamused, and waits impatiently for me to quiet down.

"What business were you thinking of putting in the nail building?" I giggle, still picturing my brother, emasculated in the red apron pouring strangers' coffee.

"I was going to open up a flower shop next door. Mr. Platinum always drives to that shop fifteen minutes down the road, right? Well, he wouldn't have to if there was one right next door. That allows me—or, now you—to get friendly with him. Plus, we can listen in on everything from next door." Em says, smiling at the brilliance of the idea.

Impressed, I raise my eyebrows at him and nod. "That's actually a really good idea, Em. You thought of that all by yourself?"

He rolls his eyes, parking the car, signaling our arrival at the hotel. "Although I act like one sometimes, I'm not a full blown dumbass."

" _Sometimes_ , he says." I mutter to myself, smiling.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Kate doesn't waste any time getting the paperwork approving the money to buy the business next to Masen Accounting. The only thing she did faster was setting Emmett up with a new identity and a glowing resume. By glowing, I mean Emmett's new cover was a coffee shop manager looking for a new shop to manage.

Emmett had seen The Coffee Studio was needing to hire a new store manager and thought it would be perfect for me. Mr. Platinum's son went there every day, and managing would allow me to keep tabs on him while Emmett pursued his father.

I make a mental note to send a bottle of vodka and black licorice to Kate—her favorite—to thank her for setting Em up with the best fake identity, ever.

Emmett got hired on the spot due to his being completely over qualified, which Jazz and I haven't let up on teasing him about, and don't see a time when we ever will. The Coffee Shop even offered him the apartment upstairs at a discount. He is going to move in there later today.

I was still waiting to hear back from Jasper on setting me up with my own place near the flower shop. For now, I was preparing to open up the store. Jazz had sent over all the documents I needed for my new profile, so now it was just a matter of fine tuning the details.

My new name is Marie Woods. I'm from Lovell, Wyoming, a very small town with a population of around 2,000. I studied business at the University of Wyoming and afterwards managed a local restaurant. My fake parents had passed away when I was a toddler, so my grandmother raised me. She passed away shortly after high school, leaving me with no other living relatives. It was a one page profile—boring, just like Mr. Platinum's cover.

Emmett was given a different life. Kate thought it best that we aren't associated, so on the off chance one of us is made, the other can still continue without a blown cover.

I'm sweeping up the last of debris from the remodel of the flower shop when I hear movement coming from the front of the shop. I glance at the clock in the backroom. It is half past ten; all other businesses are closed by now. I hear another footstep and I gently lean the broom against the wall, taking care to ensure no noise is made alerting the intruder.

I move quietly toward the front of the shop, my hand grasping my gun that is tucked in the back of my jeans. I don't dare draw just in case it's a cop. I'm not supposed to be carrying a gun, after all I am Marie Woods, not Isabella Swan.

Another footstep.

I stand next to the doorway, listening closely; the sound of my breathing seems louder in the eerie quiet. I wait another minute before peeking from my hiding place to see the intruder.

"Jesus, Jasper." I sigh in relief, "You scared the living shit out of me." I remove my hand from my gun.

Now that I'm not on high alert, I remember Jazz is supposed to be in DC, and am now overwhelmed with confusion.

"Wait. What are you doing here?" I ask in a slightly accusatory manner.

"You didn't think you could set up all the equipment by yourself, did you?" He teases, but only makes the briefest of eye contact.

"Well, I kinda would have been forced to. Emmett's no use when it comes to that stuff." I remark, remembering when Emmett and I had first moved into our apartment in DC. He short circuited half the building attempting to set up our internet router.

He can take down six armed men in the blink of an eye with his bare hands, but he can't find his way around an iPhone to save his life.

Jazz laughs and gives me a hug hello. He still has that glow I left him with in DC, but it's a little more subdued now, which I find odd and is just adding more questions to my list.

"Blonde, eh?" He catches a lock of my hair in his hand and arches an eyebrow.

"Alice." Is all I say before turning around and heading to the back where the equipment located.

Jasper follows and starts unboxing computers, routers, and a few other things I couldn't name for the life of me.

"How long are you here for?" I ask, watching him find homes for all of the miscellaneous cables.

"Just for a few hours, I'm catching the red eye back." He responds curtly.

"You could have just sent a tech that is stationed around here." I say, still trying to figure out his angle. Jasper rarely ever travels for his job. I can't help but find it strange that he'd fly out just for a few hours when he could have easily sent in someone from his team.

"I know." He agrees without elaborating. He's a little too focused on what he's doing, brushing off my comment as if this is a normal occurrence.

I've known Jasper long enough to know something's up, but I don't press it. He will tell me the real reason for his visit in due time.

He quietly sets everything up and makes sure it's running before showing me how to work each gadget.

"This computer here, it's constantly recording what is being said on the other side of the wall. You're going to have to find frames or something to cover the holes I drilled into the wall for the mics. This computer has access to the cameras you and Em placed at Mr. Platinum's house as well as the tracking device you put on his car.

This box has some new tech I made that just got approved. You won't need them now, but you might in the future. I'll let you know when you're going to need them, so you can just put this box in the safe for now. Just make sure not to turn the computers off and you're all set."

I don't fail to notice that he never once looked me in the eye, once again, while explaining everything.

"Alright, sounds easy enough. Thanks, Jazz." I smile and motion for us to close up shop.

As I'm locking the door to the back room I hear Jasper say something but I don't catch it.

"What'd you say?" I ask, having a little trouble turning the key.

"I said I'm scared." His voice has a tremor in it that makes me completely forget about the key and I turn to face him.

His eyes are downcast, not wanting to meet mine. His shoulders are tense and I can see his hands shaking every so slightly. Jasper has always been one to keep complete control of his emotions. He's always been my strong, level-headed older brother. I'm not used to the scared and anxious man standing before me.

"Oh, Jazz." I whisper as I step forward and wrap my arms around him.

He hugs me back for several long seconds before he talks.

"I just... I can't talk to mom about it. I know she loves Charlie so much, but every time anyone mentions my dad she tears up. I can't hurt her like that... And I can't talk to Alice about it, she's freaking out so much right now. Last Thursday she broke down crying in the middle of Target because they ran out of lavender bath soap. I'm just trying to be strong for her, you know? She really misses you. You're better at this stuff than I am."

Tears sting my eyes before they make their way down my face. I want so badly to be there for my family in DC, but I can't drop everything here and go back home; it is just not in the job description.

"What's wrong, Jazz? Talk to me." I step back and grab his hand, squeezing it to convey encouragement.

"Hey." He warns playfully, wiping a tear off my face. "This is my break down, not yours."

"Sorry," I laugh through a sniff, wiping down the rest of my face with my sleeve.

"I'm just scared, Bells... This whole time I've been thinking about my dad. That could happen to me, too. I know I'm not in the field like you and Emmett are, but I still work for the Agency. What if someone decides to bomb the office? And it's not just my job, either. What if some drunk driver hits me on the way home from work?

"I just can't imagine leaving Alice alone with the baby. Not seeing my daughter grow up. Not being able to be there for graduation, or walk my baby girl down the aisle. Maybe Alice won't be lucky enough to find someone like Charlie to take care of her like mom did. She'll be all alone with no one to help her. That's what scares me."

For the first time in my life, I see tears in my brother's eyes and it shatters my heart.

"You can't think like that, Jazz. You can't just live your life in fear that you suddenly won't be there for Alice and the baby.

"Think about your dad, he was never scared about the dangers of his job. He was there for Renee and loved her fiercely for the time they were given together. Don't let your fear hinder you from enjoying the life you've created with Alice. That's not fair to either of you. I can't imagine my life, or any of our lives without you, Jazz.

"I'm only saying this to put your mind at ease a little, but Alice would never be alone. She has us—her family. Emmett and I, Mom and Dad. We're always going to take care of her, whether you're here or not." I say, hoping everything I have said makes sense.

I see him take in everything, giving me a small smile.

"You're right, Bells. I needed to hear that. Thank you." He pulls me in for another hug.

"I know. I'm always right." I grin, teasing him.

He laughs and walks with me out the door, helping me turn off the lights to the shop. He puts his arm around my shoulder as he walks me to my new rental, a baby blue VW Beetle.

"I'll see you soon, Bells. Alice would break into headquarters and find out where you are to come kill you herself if you missed her baby shower." Jazz chuckles as he opens my car door.

"So you're having a girl?" I beam, remembering his slip up earlier.

"Oh, fuck." He smacks his hand on his forehead, "Alice was supposed to tell you that. Please act surprised when she does. But, yeah... A little girl" His smile stretches from ear to ear as he looks back at me.

"That's amazing, Jasper." I launch myself at him one last time, giving a congratulatory hug. "I can already picture Emmett showing her how to kick other boys' asses." I giggle.

"Speaking of Emmett, you tell him about this and I will end you." He points a finger at me. I know he isn't talking about the gender of the baby, but rather my seeing him cry.

I roll my eyes as I get in the car, "Yeah, yeah. Secret's safe with me, Pansy."

"Hey!" He turns and walks backwards towards his car, "That's _Mister_ Pansy to you, lady." And with that, Jasper hops into his car, and I know he is headed to the airport. It was great to see him, even for such a short amount of time. Knowing I may have been able to assuage his concerns, even in the tiniest of ways, warms my heart.

I open the flower shop for business later that week on Saturday. I have two clients in the morning, one birthday and one anniversary. After catching up with Em, I FaceTime Alice to help me make arrangements with the flowers I've got in inventory. Lord knows I don't have any experience in this department.

"Hmm... Add a little more baby's breath near the back to even everything out... Yep, right there. Perfect! Make sure you order Gerbera Daisies, Arundina Orchids, and get some purple and blue Hydrangeas, too. Those are popular."

I'm relieved that Alice never asks questions about my job. She understands what I do and doesn't press to know about that aspect of my life. All other aspects, however, she's relentless.

"Thanks so much, Alice." I sigh in relief, putting the flowers in the cooler for the customer to pick up later.

"That's what I'm here for!" She giggles.

Now that I'm finished with the arrangements, I sit down so I can talk to Alice about the other reason why I called.

"So, how are you?" I ask nonchalantly.

"I'm good! Or well, we're good." She pats her belly, which has already formed a small bump. "The nursery is almost done, I just haven't decided yet on the crib—it's between mahogany or American oak. I'm finalizing all the details for the baby shower next week. I know it's not for another few months, but I know as I get bigger I'll start slowing down a bit so I want everything finished—"

"—No, Alice." I cut her off, "I mean, how are you? _Really_." My eyes imploring her to tell me the truth.

I probably could have transitioned into this conversation a lot more smoothly. I forgot that pregnancy hormones plus Alice are a bad combo. She immediately breaks down weeping as soon as I ask.

"Oh, Bella—" _Sniff_ , "I'm a mess, everything's a mess!" She wails, "Lauren quit on me and the mayor's daughter gets married in three weeks, so I had to take over the entire project on top of all my work. Albus keeps shitting everywhere and Nox tears up all the pillows I get for the living room. Jasper won't tell me what's wrong. He's been so sweet and perfect for me, but I can just tell something's wrong. I know there is, and he just won't tell me. I think it's me, Bella. I think I've just become too much for him and I stress him out with my planning, and my work, and now the baby, I just—"

"Alice, Alice." I cut her off for the second time, worried about her passing out from not taking any breaths in between sentences. "Breathe, okay? Just breathe."

I see her take several deep breathes as she calms herself down, fanning herself with her hand. I relax after hearing everything that's wrong with Alice. _This I can handle._

"Okay... You good now?" I ask carefully.

She nods quietly. I see Lumos jump up in her lap at the bottom of the screen, coming to the rescue with cuddles.

"Okay...Call Angela, ask her to take over the wedding, she'll understand. For the billionth time, Alice, hire an assistant. I mean it. You can't run a company without help, especially now with a baby on the way. Ask Dad if he can come over on weekends to help with Albus, he's good at training dogs. Get cashmere pillows for the living room, that's what Nox likes. She won't fuck with those. Once you've done all of that, relax. Then talk to Jasper." I raise my voice a little, seeing that she's opening her mouth to talk, "He'll tell you what's wrong, trust me. But you have to calm down and breathe first. He doesn't want to add to your stress. You put a lot on your shoulders, Alice. You have to learn to delegate certain things to other people. You can't do everything."

She sighs heavily and leans back in her chair, "I know, I know... I'll try to be better about that, you're right."

_Why can't I ever get Emmett to say that?_

I smile at Alice, "See? It's not so hard once you make a list. I promise you'll feel loads better once you do all that."

"Ugh, I miss you. It wouldn't have gotten this bad if you were here to slap some sense into me."

"I miss you, too, Alice. Don't worry, I'll be home soon. I think I might stop traveling as much when I get back. At the very least for long periods of time. I wanna be home with you guys, believe me. I'm just doing some important stuff right now."

"I know, I know." She rolls her eyes, "Secret, fancy notary stuff."

I snicker, "Yeah, secret fancy notary stuff."

The front door to the shop dings, signaling a customer walking in.

"I gotta go, Alice. Bye! Love you."

"Okay, love you, too! Thanks for being you and rescuing me from my psycho, micro-managing self!" She blurts out quickly before I hang up.

I giggle all the way to the front.

"Good afternoon! How can I help you, today?" I ask my new customer, closing the back door.

"Hi, yes. I'd like to get some flowers for my wife, if I may."

I jerk around at that statement and I'm met with piercing blue eyes and a head full of platinum blonde hair.

Mr. Platinum smiles kindly at me, waiting for my response.

"Oh hi, uh, yes. We do that here."

_Stop being awkward, Bella._

After a second I straighten up and extend my hand to Mr. Platinum, smiling back.

"Marie Woods."

He grasps my hand, his hand warm and shakes it gently. "Carlisle Cullen. I work next door at Masen Accounting."

_Cullen?_

"Oh, nice! Hi neighbor!" I laugh.

"Hello! Congrats on opening this place up. I normally go to the florist down the road but I want to see if my wife would like your arrangements better." He winks, giving me a crooked grin I've seen before only from afar. Up close its effect is definitely multiplied.

A giggle that rivals that of an elementary school girl comes out of my mouth before I can stop it.

_Damn it, that charm must be hereditary._

"What kind of flowers are you looking to get for her?" I ask, shooing the little elementary school girl in me away.

"Surprise me." He shrugs, "I get her flowers every day, so nothing too big, she'll change them for different ones tomorrow."

I go to the cooler and look at all the flowers I have, thinking what would look nice.

"Are you a Chicago native?" He inquires, watching me grab some pink peonies.

"No, I just moved here a few weeks ago. I'm from Wyoming, small town."

"What brings you all the way over to Chicago?" He asks with a quizzical look on his face.

"I guess I just wanted a change... All I've ever known was small town. I want to see what a big city is like. Do you live around here?"

"I do, actually. I live close by. Born and raised in Chicago."

We fall silent as I add in the last of the flowers to complete the bouquet.

"So, why flowers every day?" I ask. Ever since Em and I started tailing him, I've always wondered why Mr. Platinum—well, I guess I can start calling him Carlisle—got flowers for his wife every single day.

He blushes before answering, giving me a shy smile, making it seem as though he has never been asked that question. "On our first date I got her flowers and she lit up when she saw them. I promised myself I'd get her flowers everyday just to see her smile like that... Is that cheesy?"

That damn school girl makes her appearance again, a giggling mess as she places white daises in the bouquet. "No, actually. That's very sweet... I hope I can find someone who loves me enough to do that for me every day." I say, smiling earnestly at him.

I tell myself that it's Marie talking—my fake, small town girl persona—but I know that's the first truth I've told Mr. Platinum since he walked into my shop.

"You're a very beautiful girl, Marie, I'm sure it won't be that hard." He says, flashing me that megawatt smile. That fucking smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen. Here," I hand him the flowers, "I hope your wife enjoys them."

"Call me Carlisle, please. I hope she does, too. You'll know tomorrow if I'm back here."

He pays with cash, of course. After a smile and wave, he walks out.

My back pocket vibrates and I pull it out. It's a text from Jasper.

_Well that was anticlimactic. - J_

He must have been listening in, working through the weekend at the office.

_What do you expect? Him to walk in here guns a blazin'? - B_

_He's an accountant, not a gun slinger. I just mean that he's so... Normal. I'll see what I can find on a Carlisle Cullen. He's smart for not having anything in his name. - J_

_OK, keep me posted. And stop spying on me. - B_

_I can't, it's in my big brother blood. - J_

_Ugh, I know. Go home, Jazz. Night. - B_

_Night, Bells. - J_

The next day Mr. Platinum—I can't get that name out of my head now—comes back, telling me that his wife absolutely adored them. He returns every day for the rest of the week and makes small talk with me while I make his wife flower arrangements. Each day he asks me questions about my life, simple ones like where I went to college, what I studied, and what my parents think of my big move. When I tell him they died when I was young and that I have no living relatives left, he genuinely looks remorseful.

I can't believe someone this sweet could work for someone so evil like Aro Volturi. He could be just acting, but I've always been good at reading people, and I can't find any lies in his kindness.

Saturday morning I rush to the shop. I was up late moving into my new apartment that Jasper had gotten for me so I was running behind.

My place is a small loft in near the outskirts of Chicago. The style is quite different from my apartment back home, but I like the rustic feel of it. It has brick walls and dark hardwood floors. The furniture that came with the place is a little old fashioned, but adds a sense of comfort and familiarity to the apartment. It doesn't have any rooms; the kitchen, living room, and bed room all shared on the same floor with no walls. But, fortunately, it is big enough that it doesn't feel stuffy.

I open the door to the flower shop, holding a bagel in my mouth and a ceramic coffee mug in one hand.

Once settled I check the store's computer for any orders that were made the night before. I have one from an E.A.C., stating they need an anniversary bouquet by the end of the day

I scarf down my breakfast and get started on the arrangements I need done for the day.

As closing time nears, I shoot Alice a text asking what the best combination of flowers would be for an anniversary. Once I have her reply, I get started.

After I get a get a thumbs up from Alice, I choose a stationary for the message, signing it Happy Anniversary Mom And Dad, Love You Both. - E

I'm just finishing the card at the front desk when the front door dings.

"Be with you in just a minute! Take a look around and let me know what you like." I call to the customer without looking up.

"I think I've found it." Says a velvety voice.

_I know that voice..._

My head snaps up and I'm met with Adonis himself standing behind the counter.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. Abort mission. I repeat, ABORT._

"Ah, the nameless Bitti girl. We meet again." He smirks.

I hate what that smirk does to me, but I hate myself more for thinking I could have avoided him forever. He works next door, for Christ's sake.

I clear my throat, buying myself some more time to think about what the fuck I can say to him.

"Fancy green shirt guy." I nod. _Fancy... green shirt guy? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Bella pull yourself together._

He snorts at this, "I go by Edward to most."

"Edward Cullen?" I ask, eyeing the order slip, assuming the C stands for Cullen.

"That'd be me." He affirms, arching an eyebrow at me playfully. "How'd you know my last name?"

"I'm sure you know who comes in here every day to get flowers for his wife."

He laughs, "Yeah my dad's a hopeless romantic... You know, I still haven't gotten your name."

"I still haven't given it to you." I remark indignantly.

"If I go on a date with you, will you give it to me?" He asks, taking one of the calla lilies in between two of his fingers, casually examining it.

I narrow my eyes at him, "If _you_ go on a date with _me_?" I repeat, my ego pushing all other emotions felt at the mention of a date out of the way.

"Yeah," he shrugs, "quid pro quo."

Cocky bastard.

I scoff back at him, "In your dreams, Art Boy." At least that's a step up from fancy green shirt. Progress is progress.

"I actually think it's a fair trade. You give me your name, I give you a night you won't forget." He points the calla lily that he's holding at me with his eye brows raised.

"Is that so? _A night I won't forget_. Hmm… I don't know. You seem pretty forgetful." I shrug innocently.

"Trust me, you'll remember me." His eyes hold a subtle fierce determination behind them as he states this.

"Well, what if I give you my name? That'll make you debt free. You won't owe me a thing."

He laughs and I make a mental note to joke more often when I'm around him.

 _Wait. More often? Slow your roll, Swan. You're still on a mission, you can't date your target_ , I scold myself.

"I'll still owe you. I could never live with myself if I let a nice girl like you spend a Sunday night alone. I'm indebted to be your entertainment." He laments, putting a hand on his chest dramatically.

"That's a big burden." I smirk before resting my chin on my hand, trying my best to look solemn. He doesn't grasp the double meaning behind my statement.

"I'm sure it is. But I'm willing to bare that weight on my shoulders."

I narrow my eyes at him again, "I'll think about it. That'll be $62.50." I hand him the order slip.

He takes out cash and hands it to me. As I put the money in the register he signs off on the order slip. He offers the pen back to me and I go to take it from him.

"Have you thought about it?" He grips tighter on the pen, not allowing me to take it from his hand.

He gives me one of those panty-dropping, crooked smiles of his that make my brain go fuzzy, and the words are out of my mouth before I can comprehend what I'm saying.

"Fine, I'll go."

_What in the actual fuck did I just say?_

"Pick you up tomorrow at eight." He snatches the flowers from the counter and walks swiftly out of the door before I can change my mind.

I stare after him, wide eyed, wondering what the hell just happened.

_You, getting yourself in deep shit. That's what happened._

My phone starts vibrating in my pocket, notifying me of an incoming call and I answer it without looking.

"Bella, what the fuck was that?" Jasper growls.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Things are starting to get interesting! What do you think will happen next? Will Jasper refuse to let Bella go on a date and lead her to go behind his back, or will he eventually agree?**
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> **Let me know your thoughts!**
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> **Thank you to my wonderful Beta, Kenz, who actually had to beta this chapter twice because her husband deleted the document on accident the first time LOL!**
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> **You guys might get the next chapter sooner than you think 0:-) Stick around! If TBK reaches 50 reviews before the usual two week update, I might just post the next chapter early ;)**


	6. The Restaurant Debacle

THE RESTAURANT DEBACLE  
EMMETT POV  
A warm arm wraps tighter around me, rousing me out of sleep.  
I blink a few times, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness that envelops my small loft above the coffee shop.  
Unconsciously, my hand starts rubbing circles on the smooth, naked back that lies next to me. I peer down at Rosalie's angel face as she sleeps peacefully.  
Normally, her forehead is constantly creased with lines—either in annoyance, exasperation, or displeasure. Around me, however, those rules don't apply.  
I chuckle slightly, making sure not to wake her, while I think about my sassy, gorgeous woman.  
My cellphone buzzes from the night stand, pulling me from thoughts of waking Rose back up for a third round.  
"Hmm..." I mumble quietly.  
"Emmett?" Jasper asks.  
I quickly turn the volume as low as possible before responding. "Yeah."  
"Have you talked to Bella?"  
"No, not since this morning..." I whisper, checking to see if Rose is still asleep. Her soft, feather light snores confirm she is. I smirk, knowing Little Em and I the cause of her being so tired.  
"The Bookkeeper came into the shop today, well technically yesterday." I glance at the clock on the bedside table, seeing it's well into Sunday, I raise an eyebrow that Jasper fails to see from DC.  
"Why you up so late?"  
"Couldn't sleep. Not until I found out more about him. He gave his name to Bella. Well, a name. I'm not sure if it's his, but it gives us a name to put to a face."  
"Whatcha got?" I ask quietly. Rose lying next to me doesn't allow me to physically celebrate this break in the case.  
"Carlisle Cullen is hi—"  
An imaginary truck load of ice dumps on me as I hear that last name and I'm unable to hear whatever else comes out of Jasper's mouth after that.  
Cullen?  
My eyes jump to Rosalie as I'm suddenly on high alert.  
That has to be a common name, right? No way in fucking hell is my Rose involved with that shit.  
Suddenly the image of a couple of weeks ago floods my mind as if saying, you already knew this asshole.  
I had a feeling it was Rosalie who opened that apartment door to Mr. Platinum and his wife. Although it had been far away, her golden hair and tall physique would be hard to miss.  
I wasn't certain it was her, having not seen her face, so I just brushed it off.  
How the fuck could life be so god damn cruel? Are you shitting me right now?  
Is the perfect woman that lies in my arms right now related to Mr. Platinum? No… Not my Rosie. Besides, it could be a fake name, right?  
"Emmett! Are you still there?" Jasper's question distracts me from the ones I ask myself.  
"Yeah, yeah... Sorry." I instinctively pull Rosalie closer to me, nervous about what Jasper has to say about the new discovery. "Can you say that again? It broke up..."  
"I said the Bookkeeper's name is Carlisle Cullen... For some reason, I can't find shit on him. It's like he doesn't exist. No medical records, no school records.  
"The only proof that he's even alive is a birth certificate that I found. I can't even find a social security number. Emmett, I looked everywhere. I called and cashed in some owed favors to some of my best contacts... Shits fucking weird, bro."  
I mumble in agreeance, trying to relax at the unconfirmed information about Rosalie's involvement with Mr. Platinum's business.  
"No one ever bothers to look too close cause they just seem so normal. I'm fucking creeped by what little I managed to find... Bella's been making small talk with him, so I'm hoping he can give her a few more details about his life. We'll see. So far, so good though. It's still progress.  
"All we've heard from the office is mundane, boring shit. All clean. But I'm hoping they'll slip. They're good, but everyone makes mistakes. We'll be there to catch it."  
"Yeah..." Is all I manage to say.  
"You okay, bro?... You seem, I don't know, off? You're usually a lot more excited about shit like this." He asks in the same tone I had used on Bella when we first discovered Mr. Platinum's house, giving me a weird sense of déjà vu.  
"Yeah, man. Just tired. Fucking job... Give a big thanks to Kate for me, will ya?"  
Jasper barks out a laugh before ending the call.  
I try and fall back asleep, but that fucking last name eats away at me.  
Gently jostling Rosalie awake, I look down at her confused state as she blinks up at me.  
"Liam?" She mumbles.  
"Hey... What are your parents' names? I don't think you ever told me." I ask nonchalantly. As if it's not two in the morning and we hadn't just finished having amazing, sweaty, fuck-hot sex less than a few hours ago.  
Her eyebrows scrunch in sleepy confusion as she looks up at me. "Huh?"  
"Your parents... You were telling me about them a few days ago. What are their names?"  
"Are you really asking me that right now?" She mutters, too sleepy to glare at me.  
"Sorry, I can't sleep. I was just thinking about you, everything that you've told me about you and your family. Making sure I got all my facts straight, too many girlfriends to keep track of." I wag my eyebrows playfully at her, covering my nervousness expertly.  
Her eyes widen a little before a slow, lazy smile stretches across her face. "Is that what I am?... Your girlfriend, huh?"  
My gut does this weird fucking flip thing and I mentally calculate when was the last time I ate before answering her.  
"Well, I mean... If that's you want to be, it's up to you. This might be goin' at a faster pace than normal..." I try and back pedal, not wanting Rose to get uncomfortable with me and end things.  
I've never really had a girlfriend since high school, but I actually like the thought of claiming Rosalie as my girl now that the idea has presented itself.  
She shakes her at me, "You're right. This is a little bit faster than normal." My heart skips a beat as she says this. Damn it, do I need to see a cardiologist or somethin'? What the hell's going on with my body today... "But I don't mind fast when it's you behind the wheel." She finishes, smirking at me.  
My smile matches hers as I lift her on top of me. "I think you're mistaken there, babe. It's you who's shiftin' gears here." I reiterate this by gently grinding her against my growing hard on.  
She laughs whole heartedly, tilting her head back in the process. I swear this woman needs a fucking spot light on her when she smiles like that. How she's an accountant and not a god damn run way model is beyond me.  
She pulls off my T-shirt that she's wearing and slips my boxers down.  
As she lowers herself onto me, already ready to take me all in, I forget about Mr. Platinum, Jasper, flower shops, and everything else that doesn't involve the blonde goddess that straddles me.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

BPOV  
"What the fuck was what?" I ask indignantly.  
"I mean, quite literally, what in the actual, all-inclusive fuck, do you think you're doing? Going on a date with the Bookkeeper's son, really?" He hisses.  
The lie rolls out of me naturally, "Look, I saw an opportunity and I took it. How else am I supposed to get close to Mr. Platinum? This is a great way to do it."  
"Yeah, I'm sure fornicating with the enemy is something the Agency encourages. You could compromise the assignment, Bella. You're breaking protocol." Jasper counters, speaking to me as though I am a child.  
"Jasper, it's one fake date." The butterflies in my stomach seem to disagree with that, "How is that breaking protocol? Emmett hasn't gotten much from his cover, and I honestly don't think he will. The only way we can get what we need is by finding out where the Bookkeeper stores all his information. Emmett can't do that while working a day job and I've heard nothing but lackluster accounting bullshit from next door."  
"How do you think you'll be able to get said information if you're be too busy spoon feeding cheesecake into Edward Cullen's mouth?"  
"I have a plan, Jasper. Calm down. I'll handle shit on my end, you handle it on yours." I bark.  
"Just make sure you remember what's at stake here. I can't wait to hear what Emmett has to say about this. He might ask Dad to pull you out."  
"You're not telling Emmett. He won't understand what I'm trying to do. Just please, Jasper. Do you want to take these guys down or not?"  
I hear him let out a deep sigh, "I do, but not at the risk of putting you in danger. You could get made if you get too close."  
"I'm always at risk when I'm on the field. Please, Jazz, don't tell Em. Attempt to understand what I'm trying to do here. It is the only way in." I plead.  
The line is silent for what seems like an eternity, and I have to glance at the screen to make sure he didn't hang up on me.  
"If I feel that you're at any risk of being made or that you're losing focus, I'm taking you off myself. Understood?" Jasper concedes, the tone of his voice telling me he isn't thrilled at this.  
I sigh in relief, "Thanks, Jazz. Don't worry, this plan will work."  
"I sure as hell hope it does."  
I hear a click and I know he's ended the call.  
As I stand alone in the middle of the shop, a small, hopeful smile forms on my face.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The next morning, I make sure to wait until I'm positive Alice is at work before I call her.  
"I need your help. I have to find a suitable outfit for tonight—"  
I'm suddenly bombarded with a banshee like scream blazing in my ear through the speaker.  
"What's his name? What's he look like? Is he cute? Where are you going?..." I hold the phone away from my ear, not listening to the rest of the questions Alice is assaulting me with. It takes several minutes for her to quiet down and I am able to put the phone back in between my ear and shoulder.  
"It's a business meeting. But I'm trying to distract the client with my... assets."  
"Uh, huh. Okay. We can call it that for now."  
I roll my eyes, walking over to my closet. "Are you gonna help me out or not?"  
I hear the line go dead and before I have time to wonder where she went, Alice calls me back but on video this time.  
"Okay. Show me what you've got." She beams.  
I flip the camera around and go over all the clothing I've brought. Most of it is comfortable clothing I use for stake outs and work.  
"Damn it, Bella. How do you expect me to work with yoga pants and fleece jackets?" She complains.  
"I had other things on my mind than fashion when I was packing." I mutter.  
"No worry, I've got it. I'll have someone send over a few things. Where are you?"  
I pause, never having been asked this question by Alice. But I also know that she's not asking to find out about my assignment.  
She sees my hesitation and continues, "I'm not asking what you're doing, Bella. I just want to know so I know who to call."  
I contemplate this for a few long seconds, then conclude that there's no harm in telling her where I am, since she does technically 'believe' I'm on a business trip. I try and make my answer as vague as possible in case anyone from the Agency finds out.  
"Chicago." I reply hesitantly.  
"I suppose it would be a stretch to ask for your address... No worries, I'll send you the address of where you can go pick the clothes up." She smiles, silently letting me know that it's okay and she understands.  
I let out a sigh of relief, thankful for such an understanding best friend like Alice.  
"Thanks, Alice. You're the best."  
She giggles, "I never get tired of hearing that. It'll be ready for pick up in about an hour or two. Bye, Bells."  
I laugh, "Bye, Alice."  
I check my orders once I'm at the flower shop and see I only have one for the day. I finish that up and close the shop for an hour while I run into town to pick up the clothes Alice had ordered for me.  
As always, my gut can already feel Alice has gone overboard as I approach the clothing boutique. I walk into the expensive looking store and I'm greeted by a tall, Amazonian looking woman.  
"Hi, I'm Senna! Can I help you find anything specific today?"  
I have to look up at her because she's so tall.  
"Uh, I'm here to pick up some items. Alice Brandon-Swan."  
"Oh, yes, of course. Follow me." She grins.  
I'm mesmerized by her mile-long legs as they glide towards the back. As I silently wonder what spanx she might be wearing that lifts her ass so flawlessly—so I can buy them for myself, obviously—she catches me staring as she turns around when reach the back of the store. Damn it, now she thinks I was checking her out.  
Smirking, she walks into a room labelled 'Employees Only' while I wait in the main store area.  
She returns with a clothing rack on wheels that is over flowing with dresses, skirts, blouses, and blazers. Only Alice would order an entire new wardrobe for just one night.  
"It's all yours." She winks. Yep, definitely thought I was checking her out.  
I laugh nervously as I take the rack and start pushing it towards the front door.  
"Oh, wait!" She calls after me, "Here! I was told to give you this."  
She hands me a small envelope and I take it, "Thanks."  
"Anytime." Okay, she winked again. Nice going, Bella.  
Once I stuff everything into the car, I open the envelope. It's a receipt for a cupcake bakery. I look at the address and see it's the same as the clothing boutique, but the suite numbers are different.  
After I pick up the small box from the bakery, I drive back to the flower shop before I open the box.  
I laugh and send Alice a text while biting into my pink frosted cupcake.  
IT'S A GIRL!? - B  
Oh, cut the shit. Jazz told me already. - A  
Told you what? :o – B  
That you know. - A  
Ah, fuck. Don't be mad at him, it kinda slipped out. - B  
SO HE DID FUCKIN TELL YOU!? THAT LITTLE FUCKER – A  
I don't know whether to be mad at you for tricking me, or at myself for falling for that... - B  
He's dead. You're down to one brother now. - A  
Well at least I'll have a niece to fill his place :-) - B  
Hehe 3 BRB... plotting revenge – A  
Oh BTW... if it doesn't work out tonight, Senna asked me to give you her number. ;-) - A  
Shut it. And for the last time Alice, it's a business meeting. - B  
A business meeting. At night. Sureeee... - A  
He's a busy man, this is the only time he's available. - B  
I'm just gonna let you keep thinking that you're fooling me. - A  
As closing time nears, my nerves get worse. By 5:30 I'm a sweaty, stressed mess. I start pacing around the store. I talk myself out and back into the date at least a hundred times, and then a few more just for good measure.  
The flower shop's phone rings and I jump at the chance to distract myself.  
"Floralia. Marie Woods speaking, how many I help you?" I answer a little flustered. Why am I out of breath?  
"I can hear you pacing you know." Jasper dead pans on the other side of the line.  
"I'm cleaning." I lie.  
"You're nervous." He responds curtly, not buying it.  
"No, I'm cleaning."  
"I've never seen you nervous about a job or a guy."  
"Get back to work, Swan!" I hiss before slamming the phone down to hang up.  
My phone buzzes from the counter.  
Remember what we talked about. - J  
I stuff my phone in my purse, irritated at Jasper, before closing up for the night.  
I take a long, cold shower when I'm back at my loft. I want to make sure my body temperature is cool enough to not start sweating any time soon.  
Looking over the clothes Alice has chosen for me, I opt for a navy blue pleated dress. It's flowy, but the short length and thin halter-like straps show just enough skin.  
I put on a little make up, going for a more natural look. After styling my hair into loose wavy curls, I survey myself in the mirror.  
I do miss my brown hair, but I don't hate the dirty blonde color. It doesn't wash me out as much as my natural dark color does. In the back of my mind, I feel a little sad that Edward will never know what my real hair color is, but I force that thought away before I start to dwell on it.  
Somehow, I make it back to Floralia. I don't remember the drive from being so completely lost in thought. I suddenly have the urge to chain smoke a few cigarettes—something I haven't done since the last round of college finals.  
Before I can convince myself to run to the grocery store a few doors down the plaza, a familiar silver Tesla pulls up in front of me.  
Edward steps out and I have to clench my thighs together to placate my sudden need for friction. He is wearing dark brown slacks paired with a white button up—the sleeves rolled up, of course. His hair looks a little more tamed than I've seen as of yet, but still calls to my hands that are itching to run through it.  
His green eyes smolder as he gives me a once over, turning a few shades darker in the process.  
"Wow." He breathes, "You look... Amazing."  
"You clean up pretty well, yourself." I mumble nonchalantly while still ogling the Greek god standing in front of me.  
He smirks, knowing full well the effect he has on me.  
Placing his hand on the small of my back, he leads me to the passenger side of car and opens the door. I guess his dad taught him more than just how to manage criminals' money.  
"So, where are we going?" I ask, fully aware of his closeness.  
"You don't get to ask any questions until you've answered mine." He smirks.  
"M—"  
"No! Not yet. Let's see if I can hold up my end of the bargain first. I want you to make an informed decision, after all." He gives me that damn crooked smile.  
I arch an eyebrow at this, "Let's see whatcha got, Cullen."  
We pull up to a massive building with dozens of wide glass windows. It looks modern, but I don't see any sign indicating what the establishment is, or even it's name.  
Again, Edward opens the door for me and helps me out. This time, however, he reaches for my hand. When our hands connect, I jerk back involuntarily from the shock. It wasn't a shock so much as it was like every cell in my body that made into contact with his suddenly came alive. When I put my hand back the sensation dulls to a muted hum. I know I'm not the only one to feel that intense sensation from the sharp intake of breath that I observed from Edward.  
Once in the building, I realize it is an art museum. The art displayed here is all contemporary in nature. There are abstract paintings lining the walls in the main lobby.  
The receptionist at the front desk waves at Edward as we make our way further into the museum. The dreamy look on her face as she stares at Edward doesn't get past me, and I swear I even hear a whimper escape her lips. She notices me next to him and gives me a dirty look before looking back at the computer in front of her.  
I keep with Edward's pace, which is faster than one that would allow us to peruse the art. We end up in a secluded hallway with no artwork on display.  
At the end of the hall, I see two tall black doors, which serve to confuse me even further. Edward opens one of them and leads me into a vast, blindingly white room. It's completely empty save a few benches lining the walls. There are a handful of people in the room talking quietly amongst themselves while they sit. He leads me to an empty bench in the far corner of the room, motioning for me to sit before taking a seat beside me.  
Before I have the time to ask what we're doing here, the lights suddenly go out, leaving us covered in darkness. Out of instinct, my body tenses as I become completely alert. I make to stand up but Edward reaches out and grasps my hand, instantly calming me.  
Suddenly a lone spot light shines down to the middle of the room illuminating half a dozen people who weren't there before.  
They're dressed in black leotards and accompanying black tights with their heads down cast. A soft pop like beat starts playing and they begin to move.  
I watch in awe as they perform together, their movements so natural and more beautiful than anything I have seen.  
During the fourth song, I can feel that Edward has stopped watching the dancers and has shifted his gaze to me. I make the mistake of turning to meet his eyes, becoming hyper aware that our faces are merely inches apart and that we're still holding hands.  
In the almost lightless room, the color of his eyes is muted, but the darkness does nothing to hide their obvious desire. He uses his free hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. His finger trails down my neck, leaving a line of fire in its place.  
It takes every fiber of my being to fight the urge to close the few inches of space between us and crash my lips into his. He seems to have a little more restraint than I do. Edward quickly and quietly returns his eyes to the show, never removing his hand from mine.  
Near the end of the performance he unconsciously starts to draw circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. I'm ashamed at how overstimulated one man's thumb causes me to be and I sure as shit hope Edward doesn't ask me about the last half of the performance. I would not be able to tell him a single thing about it.  
The music fades out and the lights turn back on. The small audience stands and claps for the performers, ourselves included.  
"That was so beautiful, Edward." I beam.  
A peculiar look crosses his features, but he composes himself and smiles back at me tentatively.  
"I'm glad you liked it. One of the performers is an old friend of mine. I come here every season when they change the show. She's amazingly talented."  
At the word 'she' I perk up. I wish I had paid more attention to the faces of the performers, now. I wonder if he had any personal history with this friend.  
Without any further elaboration, we exit the museum and get back into the Tesla. After a short drive, we arrive at an Italian restaurant downtown. Before we even walk in I am assaulted by the smell of fresh bread, basil, and oregano. It is a small, intimate place on the corner of a street.  
There's a bit of a line outside the door but Edward guides me past them and straight through the door.  
The inside is composed of brick, deep maroons, and dark cherry wood. We sit at a table in the far corner of the restaurant, almost hidden by a large, thick stone column. We aren't given any menus and opt for the special. The chef prepares whatever he got fresh this morning in what I am sure is the most delicious way. Edward does order the house wine before the waiter leaves us.  
"I can't believe I never noticed this place. It's right down the street from the Coffee Studio." I remark, still surveying the restaurant.  
"You go to the Coffee Studio?" Edward asks, making me realize I had said my thoughts out loud.  
I don't miss a beat on my reply, "Oh, yeah. I love their coffee. For the first couple of weeks I was in Chicago I went there every day. Practically lived there." I laugh at my own inside joke.  
"Hard to believe I missed such a gorgeous face like yours." He grins.  
I blush at the compliment. Believe me, I surely didn't miss yours.  
"I usually came late at night, not your typical time for coffee."  
"Where are you originally from?" He asks, abruptly changing the topic.  
"Born and raised in Lovell, Wyoming. You?"  
"Right here in Chicago. Been here most of my life. I love the big city, nothing beats it."  
"Where did you study?" I find myself asking, not because I want to find out what I can about Mr. Platinum's son, but because I want to know more about Edward.  
"I went to Dartmouth but came back right after college to work with my dad."  
"Do you like the work you do?"  
"I like working with numbers. It's a... complicated business."  
Oh, I know. "I'm sure it is. Must be difficult to keep track of all that money."  
"I like a challenge." He smirks as he holds my gaze letting me know he's not talking about work anymore. "So, why the wolf?"  
I give him a questioning look at his latter comment.  
"The wolf, on your back." He clarifies, referring to the midsize tattoo of a female wolf surrounded by flowers that lies in between my shoulder blades.  
Charlie has this large tattoo on his shoulder of an alpha male wolf that he got in his younger days. When we were all kids, my brothers and I were fascinated by it. Charlie would call us all his little pups as a joke, but after some time it stuck.  
After Emmett and I graduated high school, before he left for basic, Jasper drove us downtown and we all got wolf tattoos to celebrate.  
Jazz and Em have tattoos of male wolves that are slightly smaller than Charlie's. Renee would have one too, but she's too scared of needles to even think about getting a small one.  
Em always jokes about how I got lucky. If Charlie would have gotten a tattoo of a Swan, I might have been stuck with an ugly duckling tattoo—which I'm sure I never would have gone for.  
"Oh! That... It's just to remind others that my bark isn't worse than my bite." I wink with a chuckle.  
Edward laughs as he shakes his head at me. "You are a piece of work."  
"I really just like wolves. They're so majestic and fearless, I guess I just wanted some of that to rub off on me."  
"It certainly has, believe me." I look up at him through my lashes to see Edward staring back at me intently.  
The waiter returns and presents our wine, but Edward doesn't look away from my eyes as the waiter fills our glasses. I bite my lip, slightly nervous under his scrutiny. His eyes darken as I do this and he shifts slightly before asking another question.  
"You have family here?"  
"Uh, no. My parents passed away when I was really young. My grandmother raised me after that, but she died right after I graduated high school. That's all the family I had."  
I've never felt ashamed at how good of a liar the CIA has helped me become, but at this very moment I am overwhelmed at just how easy it is for me to lie to Edward about who I really am. I avert my eyes from his—ashamed at myself—and have a sudden interest in my silverware.  
He reaches out and squeezes my hand, interpreting my sudden silence as sadness.  
"I'm sorry. I can't imagine a life without my family." He says, attempting to comfort me.  
"Tell me about them." I murmur, wanting to shift my attention to anything but the regret I'm feeling.  
I see his eyes lighten at the thought of his family. "My mother Esme, and my father Carlisle have known each other all their lives. My mom had me young—too young. She got pregnant with me when she was in high school and thought my dad would leave her.  
"My dad asked her to marry him shortly after the news broke. He says he always planned on marrying her and was happy to do it much sooner than expected. You'd think that a teen pregnancy would ruin young love, but my parents made it work."  
His smile shows the admiration he has for his parents' love. I can tell he grew up in a warm and kind home, not just from what he's said, but because I've seen his parents together firsthand.  
"I have a younger sister," he continues, "Rosalie. She's a bit of a spitfire, but once you get to know her you realize she's harmless. She used to work with my dad and I at the office, but last year she decided it wasn't for her and now has her own private office here."  
I briefly wonder what made Rosalie get out of their business when I'm distracted by the array of food that's been brought to our table.  
We continue talking while enjoying our meal. Occasionally I let out a satisfied moan from how amazing the food tastes. I notice that Edward seems to falter a bit with whatever he is doing in response.  
It is quite possible I let out a few extra moans for my own personal enjoyment.  
I can't believe how easy it is to talk to Edward. We ask each other questions about our childhood, our favorite music, food, and books. He even tells me what he would have been if it had not taken the accounting route—an archeologist, like Indiana Jones.  
At this, I completely lose it. Giggling uncontrollably, I picture a little Edward digging holes in his backyard for treasure and sneaking out in the middle of the night for secret adventures.  
He laughs along with me, "I think I can still recite those movies word for word. When I was a little kid I wanted to be Han Solo. Not just like him, I wanted to be him. But as I got a little older I realized that was unrealistic and shifted my focus to archeology.  
"I think it was right around freshman year of high school that my dad broke the news to me that an archeologist's life isn't quite like that of the character Harrison Ford portrays."  
I'm still laughing as the waiter leaves the check on the table. As we stand to leave I look up and see a burly brunette man entering the restaurant. I would, under normal circumstances, have stopped to admire the dazzling blonde on his arm, had that man not been my twin brother.  
There's no way for me to walk out of here without crossing paths with Emmett. He and his date are standing near the front waiting for the host to come and seat them, which looks like it will take a few minutes.  
"Actually, Edward. I have to use the ladies room before we go." I smile and turn around to head to the bathroom without waiting for his answer. "You can wait for me outside!" I call over my shoulder.  
I rush into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall, afraid his date might come in. She doesn't know who I am, but if he introduces me to her later she may remember me and say something.  
Waiting for enough time to go by to ensure that Emmett and his date are seated and his attentions will be too preoccupied to notice me, I waste away the minutes thinking about my brother being out on a date—especially on a nice one like this.  
Emmett is a bit of a ladies man, but he isn't a douche or anything—my mother made sure of that. He usually tends to avoid dates. Actually, he tends to avoid anything that has the possibility of being too formal. He'll go out for drinks or coffee with a woman, but I can't remember the last time Emmett had gone on an actual date—even with the women he's been exclusive with in the past. He must really like this girl.  
I'm slightly annoyed at this revelation. Emmett and I tell each other everything. More often than not, Em will over share and call me instead of Jasper after having scored some hot chick. Granted, I haven't told him about my date either, but that's because he won't understand what I'm doing.  
And what exactly is it that you're doing, Bella?  
Shut up, inner me.  
I stop arguing with myself and figure it's safe enough to walk out now. I peek out into the restaurant and see Em and his date huddled close together in a booth on the other side of the room.  
Walking out I pick up a wine menu just in case I need to covertly cover my face. I steal a glance in his direction and see they're in the middle of a deep, passionate kiss. Trying to keep my dinner down, I head towards the entrance. Even if they do stop kissing, he's so completely enthralled by her he wouldn't even notice if I sat down on the seat across from them.  
I make it outside undetected and approach Edward, who's standing near the entrance.  
"Ready to go?" He asks as his hand finds the small of my back.  
I nod, not trusting myself to open my mouth just yet. I'm still trying to forget what I just saw in there.  
Shortly after I give Edward directions to my place we fall back into conversation, this time talking about the different art museums and galleries Chicago has to offer.   
"I have to show you a few of my favorite galleries downtown. I have a client who owns one, she's a phenomenal photographer. I think you'd like her work."  
My stomach flutters a little at the promise of Edward taking me out again.  
"Oh, right here. On the left." I point to my old apartment building.  
He hits the breaks a little too hard, causing me to jerk forward a bit.  
"You live... here? Who recommended this apartment to you?" He asks, exasperated.  
I gape at him, racking my brain for an answer. "Uh… Craigslist?"  
"This isn't the safest neighborhood. You could get mugged or assaulted this late at night." His eyes blaze as he scolds me for my choice in domicile.  
I have to remember that I'm Marie Woods and not Bella Swan, or else I would have cracked up at the thought of getting mugged or assaulted. Plus, I'm sure Jasper wouldn't have put me in a place where I couldn't handle myself.  
"My neighbors seem friendly." This being all I can manage with a straight face.  
His nostrils flare and he parks the car quickly, then walking around to open the door for me.  
"I'll walk you up." He declares.  
"That's not really necessary—" I stop myself after I see the look on his face. "Okay, I guess that it couldn't hurt."  
When we reach my apartment, I start to get uneasy. "This is me." I laugh nervously and knock on the door twice. I turn my back against the door and hold the door knob with my hands behind my back.  
Edward stays quiet and gazes at me. Again, I feel antsy under his stare. Some part of me is paranoid he might see the truth if he looks long and hard enough.  
I clear my throat and look back up at him, "Marie." I state.  
"Hmm?" He blinks and refocuses his attention to what I'm saying.  
"My name." I smile, "Marie Woods."  
"Marie." He repeats, taking a step closer to me. "I take it you'll be remembering tonight for some time?" Queue panty dropping smile.  
"It was quite unforgettable." I say, breathlessly.  
The only thing that would make this night even more unforgettable would be if he bent me over the stair railing and took me. I clench my thighs at the thought, gripping the door handle tighter to keep my hands from searching for Edward.  
His eyes darken into what has become my new favorite shade of green, and his lips part slightly. The sexual tension is palpable in the small space between us.  
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again he's much more relaxed.  
"I had a really good time tonight, Marie. That was certainly the best deal I have ever made." He chuckles.  
I don't know if it's because he's being such gentleman, or if it was the way his laugh resonated in me down to my core, but something possesses me. Before I know it, I am reaching out and grabbing Edward's collar, pulling him towards me.  
When our lips collide, the shock that I felt earlier when he grabbed my hand is back in full force. But this time it spreads all throughout my body. He is startled, but only for a second. After that there is no hesitation from his lips.  
He grabs my hips as my fingers dive into his hair. I take what he gives me, opening my mouth invitingly. He bites my bottom lip, the sensation eliciting a moan, causing him to push me up against the door. I can feel his arousal hard against my abdomen and I raise one of my legs to allow him better access.  
For all I know, the sun could have risen and set again during our kiss. My attention was solely fixated on the godly specimen whose lips were deliciously intertwined with mine.  
After what seems like hours, we break apart to catch our breath. Edward rests his forehead against mine, grinning lazily at me.  
That was definitely the cherry on top of the night.  
He chuckles, "That it was."  
I become vividly aware that I voiced my thoughts out loud, and blush in response. Damn it, Bella.  
"When can I see you again?" He asks once his breathing returns to normal.  
Again, because I'm still in a compromising position with Edward—hands still around his neck and leg still comfortably hitched on his hip—my body answers before my mind has the chance to catch up to it.  
"Tomorrow." I whisper.  
He gives me my favorite crooked smile and gently disentangles himself from me.  
"How about lunch?" Edward inquires, raising a brow in the process.  
"Yeah, sure. I don't think I have anything that needs to be done before noon."  
He leans in and gives me a sweet, soft kiss goodbye.  
Once my dead bolt clicks, I can hear Edward leaving. His footsteps echo in the empty hallway, and with their fading and I am brought closer to reality.  
I lean against the door much like I did a few minutes ago, but this time Edward-less, still fuzzy from the heady kiss we shared.  
My euphoria comes crashing down when I hear my phone buzzing in my purse. It's Jasper.  
Tell me everything you found out about him. I still can't find jack shit on any of the Cullen's, just birth certificates. It's like they're born and disappear into thin air... No school records, no medical records, zip. I need all the info I can get. Thnx – J  
I'll give you a call tomorrow morning when you're at the office. - B  
And just like that, Bella Swan is back, and Marie Woods is benched until next time.


End file.
